An American Elf
by balrogthane
Summary: Esgalmir is an Elf who stayed behind. Now, thousands of years later, he's living in present-day America.
1. Shock

Disclaimer  
  
Apparently, these things are important. So I'll just stick this at the front of every story I put out here: this story is not for money ! I am not going to get anything for it ! That should be obvious, seeing as it's here on FF.net, but if it isn't then this makes it clear.  
  
All right, as to ownership-- I own Esgalmir, his sister Lindaril, and various other characters. I do NOT own any characters mentioned in Lord of the Rings, nor do I own Lord of the Rings, nor do I own any rights to it ! There.  
  
Now you can read the story. :-)  
  
-(----  
  
The Tale of Esgalmir  
  
Chapter 1  
  
Elf in America  
  
There it was again, the blare in his ears, his sensitive ears. Sometimes being a Firstborn had faults- for one thing, whereas human ears would have long ago lost their sensitivity and become deadened, Esgalmir's ears rarely took more damage than a good night's sleep would fix. Not that a good night's sleep was something he got often, due precisely to the noise. It was amazing how little humans nowadays could hear, a result of all the sounds they seemed to love making. The alarm clock was upstairs, right through the floor, and it woke him up every morning, then more than 5 minutes later, the human it rang for would finally begin creaking and muttering. Amazing.  
  
Esgalmir rolled out of the bed to land deftly on his feet, making less sound than a careful hobbit. Another day for facing the world of Men; he could hardly wait. A blink and the sleep was out of his eyes, and he strode into the kitchen. Esgalmir was used to this- what was the word again?- apartment by now, and he wished he didn't have to leave. But he knew that, like all his previous lives, someone would start asking questions, and he would probably end up having to die again to get out of it. Sigh.  
  
After a few tasteless cornflakes and some bland milk, he threw on his outer clothing and headed downstairs, slipping lightly over the creaking stairs. The woman behind the desk greeted him as warmly as could be expected, at 6 in the morning.  
  
"Huh- right on time, 6:01 and you're out the door."  
  
"Good morning, Isa. Without a schedule, you know you'll quickly stop getting things done- you'll sit and watch TV, saying 'I still have time, I-'"  
  
"Whatever, just be sure you pay on time this month." She went back to her newspaper without even a second sneer.  
  
Esgalmir no longer minded the constant distrust he received. It only made sense- humans were so deceitful, how could they trust one another? After nearly 10,000 years, there was little that shocked him anymore, but he really did wish he had taken the Straight Road. To think, he had had a chance at it, a chance beyond hope, and he had scorned it. Prince Legolas had managed to secure passage across the sea; though not Sylvan himself, he still had a close kinship with them, and Esgalmir had been one of the Elves offered a ride with the Elf prince and his aging Dwarf friend. He shook his head, remembering his foolhardy decision to stay and see what Elessar's successor would do. Well, now he knew.  
  
He had almost reached the main road now, his feet carrying him by instinct down and to the right. As a rule, he avoided the nicer areas, they were more likely to have connections. This was probably his 28th life, all because the humans were starting to keep really good medical records. They could even tell if you were the same person, sight unseen, by DNA testing, which would lead to some very troublesome questions if you weren't human.  
  
Too much reminiscing, Esgalmir told himself; he was going to walk into a bad part of town if he wasn't careful. Instead, he deliberately turned and walked down towards his shop.  
  
In the life he was leading now, he was an assistant to one of the "medieval" shops, a job he had just gotten a week ago or so. Esgalmir needed all the innate nobility of the Eldar to avoid bursting out laughing every time he entered the shop, with its ridiculous fairies, gnomes (a far cry from the Naugrim), and demons, and he had yet to see a sword that actually balanced somewhere other than a quarter of the way down the blade. But it was still interesting to keep an eye on how Men remembered the distant past, and assistant was about the highest position Esgalmir could safely hold.  
  
All his employers liked his performance- he was a far better worker than the half-drugged teens they usually made do with- but Esgalmir had the distinct impression they were annoyed by something about him. Perhaps he came across as supercilious; in any case, the shop owner, a tattooed 30-year-old built like a Dwarf, viewed him as a mixed blessing. Darryl grunted when Esgalmir strode in, without raising his eyes from his questionable magazine.  
  
"Morning, Mr. Darryl." Esgalmir looked like an unusually well-built teenager, and could easily sound like one, too, and he had found that made the least trouble. He still hadn't managed to master the casual rudeness of today's teenagers, but he hoped he didn't stand out too much.  
  
Another grunt was all he got, this time with a one-handed motion to the back room. Curious, Esgalmir looked to see a new purchase for the store: a towering tree-like construction designed to overhang the door. Strangely enough, it also had a cord, and when Esgalmir finished dutifully setting it up, he plugged it in and got a nasty shock.  
  
"Treebeard some call me," said a horrible electronic voice, and two eyes flapped open and shut in the plastic expanse of the thing. Esgalmir was confused- what did this mean? Was this supposed to be an Ent? And it was frighteningly close to reality, at least in the concept. How did this one idea survive across the ages, when the other races had been twisted and shrunken so badly?  
  
"Nice, ain't it?" said Darryl, finally looking up. "Got it in yesterday, wanna start offering some higher quality stuff to the customers."  
  
"A new shipment, or something new?"  
  
Something like a gleam of pride was actually kindling in Darryl's eyes. "Something new, all right. I seen the second one of them Lord of the Rings movies last week, I don't know why I didn't try to get their stuff before now. It's so dang popular everyone will be runnin' here to get anything connected with it!"  
  
Esgalmir was severely flustered now. Lord of the Rings? That was something he hadn't heard in a very long time, one of the euphemisms used when speaking of the Dark Lord in lieu of using his name. Clearly he had been much too much out of the mainstream.  
  
"Uhh, Mr. Darryl, what is Lord of the Rings?"  
  
Darryl's eyes narrowed on Esgalmir. He was always suspicious of anyone who seemed too stupid to believe, they were usually hiding something. "How can you work in a fantasy shop and not know Lord of the Rings? It's only been around for 50 years!"  
  
"Sorry, I didn't know about it; is it a movie?"  
  
"Well, no, it's three movies- too long for one, of course! Where've you been? Under a rock?" Darryl had a little laugh at Esgalmir, standing there confused.  
  
"Oh, I, uh, need to go to the bathroom quick," blurted Esgalmir. Blurted, indeed! When did an Elf ever blurt? He needed time to think . . . and quiet. Something dangerous was going on. He rushed to the lavatory and slammed the door. All right, someone had talked. Clearly, a Man had heard an only slightly garbled version of the history that the modern world had so nearly lost, and he must have published it 50 years ago. Esgalmir vowed, first of all, to involve himself a little more in humanity, so that nothing like this would happen again. It was a serious shock, but it wasn't something they had been trying to hide. They didn't want to be discovered for who they were, of course, but they didn't need to hide history from Men, it had just been hidden by the years; so this wasn't a bad development. They would be a little more careful until this production fizzled, and then everything would be back to normal. In fact, Men probably didn't believe it anyway; there was no guarantee the writer had even believed it. More than likely he took the interesting parts and wrote a story that became popular, maybe several stories. All right, so he wasn't going to worry about this. He took a calming breath and stepped out of the bathroom to get to work. 


	2. What's the Lord of the Rings?

Chapter 2

LotR?

About 200 people had come into the shop, up 20 from the usual. Perhaps the Treebeard statue was actually creating some publicity. Or perhaps this story had gotten more of the plebs interested in medieval things as a whole; either way, Darryl was nicer than usual. During one of the breaks in customers Darryl recounted a sketchy version of this Lord of the Rings, one heavy on blood and fighting but low on story. So Esgalmir still had no idea about how close it was to history. Despite what he had decided right after hearing about it, Esgalmir still felt uneasy. Now back in his apartment, he wondered if he should contact one of the other Elves in the city. They probably knew all about the story and who had told it, and would snicker at his utter confusion. He decided to deal with it himself, although he did want to know just who had told the story. Tonight he would contact one of the others, probably Malfinien; she lived nearby, in Charleston, and talked the most of the nearby Elves.

Right now, though, it was time for his other life. Without needing to sleep as humans do, Esgalmir spent most nights on the Internet. The only thing the Elves really feared was the space program: none of the ships that ran into the Straight Road ever came back. Esgalmir wished he could find the Straight Road, but all he knew was that it was somewhere in the so-called Bermuda Triangle, and anyway, he wasn't entirely sure if Sylvan Elves would be accepted. NASA had already discovered one of the girdles the Valar placed between Arda and the Blessed Realm, although they called it the Van Allen belt, and they could pass it safely. If a shuttle were to pass into the Straight Road, what would happen?

Esgalmir didn't entirely understand the Road, so he just knew that there was a danger. Clearly, one end was fixed to the earth, but although it went "straight," it couldn't go straight into space and to a destination in this world: the humans would have discovered it already. What if it was more like a portal, one of those supposed "wormholes"? A rocket passing into it would simply disappear. Elvish ships could return, he knew that one at least had done so, but what would happen to a rocket that hit the portal? Snap immediately into the Blessed Realm, he supposed, at some incredible speed, and smash into Tol Eressëa and kill who knew how many Elves. NASA would freak out over totally losing a spacecraft and would probably devote years to figuring out what had happened. And if there was anything there to be detected by their means, they would certainly find it and send another, more careful expedition there. The men would make it through, find out about Valinor, and possibly even make it back to Earth. Then what? Esgalmir didn't know, but he couldn't see how it could possibly be good.

So he checked the Web even more carefully tonight. He sent an innocuous e-mail to Malfinien, asking to meet sometime, and then searched for websites with "Lord of the Rings."

He got another nasty shock- the web was full of Lord of the Rings, a very nearly accurate account of the War of the Ring. Not only that, but the tales of the First Age appeared too, as well as many confused accounts and twisted versions of events. There was also a story about the Quest of Erebor, what Esgalmir considered the most interesting of the Dwarvish tales- although, unlike the version Esgalmir had heard in Dale, it focused on the hobbit instead of Thorin. He couldn't see how he had missed it for nearly 50 years; too much high-level searching, focusing on space instead of watching out for "Elf sightings."

Esgalmir sat back from the computer, emotionally drained. He felt foolish and blind, to have not seen any of this, and he resolved to contact Balimar immediately. Balimar lived in France currently, and was the nearest thing to an Elf King now. He took care of all the contact information, and whenever there was a serious decision to be made, he was the one who ended up making it. Esgalmir no longer cared if he looked foolish, he just wanted to know what to do.

Esgalmir hesitated only a moment before sending an e-mail to Balimar, then went to bed. He may not have needed much sleep, but he had to have some, and sleeping was always good for bringing advice and ideas.


	3. The Lost Road is Found

Chapter 3

The Lost Road is Found

"That'll do it," Mark called. "Start 'im up again."

The ferry's cantankerous engine choked once and lay silent, _like a wounded beast,_ Mark thought dryly. He eyed it with equal parts suspicion and wariness.

"OK, so what's your problem now, Nick?" Mark grumbled at the engine. The engine just sat, practically exuding innocence.

"That'll do it, huh?" Jerry's voice intruded. "Mark, the engine's just dead. Let's take her in and get the company to replace it. It's older than we are, anyway- about time for it to die!"

"No, I can fix him," Mark replied absently. Suddenly he smacked himself in the head. Where was his current tester? He hooked it up, and indeed, there was a short circuit somewhere in the engine. Nick was too old to have more than half a dozen places he could have a short circuit, and Mark had it patched in a minute.

"OK, I found it," he called sheepishly. "I didn't think to check for a short circuit . . ." Jerry didn't reply, just gunned the engine again. To Mark's satisfaction, Nick happily started up.

"He's all ready!"

"Why," Jerry asked, for the hundredth exasperated time, "when all other ships in the world, inhistory, from the Greeks to the Enterprise, have been female, why do you call ours a 'he'?"

"It's not the whole boat, I like her!" Mark protested. "It's just the engine- cause he's too much trouble!"

"I repeat: why do you call it a he? Especially if you say it's too much trouble . . ." Mark rolled his eyes at the grin in Jerry's voice.

"Whatever. Let's take her on over to the dock, it's time for the next load."

Jerry engaged the engine, the screw lowered into the water and Ferry No. 9 began making her way to the dock.

Half an hour later, Nick was still happily clattering away, and Mark was lying on the back edge of the ferry with his hat over his eyes. The Caribbean was pretty, but having a job there took away most of the interest- and the sun was especially bright today. It was comfortably warm, though, and Mark slipped off into sleep.

He awoke immediately when Nick hiccoughed sharply, lurching the ferry forward. Mark really did slip off, pitching right off the back of the ferry. He surfaced with an embarrassed splutter and struck out for the ladder at the back of the ferry. She seemed to be going faster than usual, however, and what would usually have been easy became impossible. Mark was about to call for help when he noticed something else strange about the ferry.

It was rising out of the water.

Mark stopped moving. It wasn't something he could watch and see, it was too slow for that. But the high water mark was already 2 inches out of the water, and Mark didn't relish the idea of getting onto an elevating boat. Instead, he struck out for a nearby island, only to notice that it was completely unfamiliar; Jerry had apparently taken a wrong bearing somewhere. The island was only about 2 miles distant, whatever island it was, and Mark was a good steady swimmer, if not too fast.

He cast one glance back at the ferry to see that it was now really speeding up. There was a fine bow wave, and it was now nearly as far away as the island was. Mark had always been a believer in the Bermuda Triangle, and he had no doubt that Jerry had strayed into it. The islands around here were mostly sand, and he wasn't worried about the ferry smashing into a rock and sinking, but they would probably be looking for a new job once this was over.

Then he saw someone jump over the side. He frowned; they must be more worried than he. The lifeboat was next, although it nearly capsized- No. 9 was really cruising now. Another person jumped, carrying a large suitcase. Another. No more people jumped, although the ferry continued its mad dash into the distance.

Mark turned and set a new course for the lifeboat, trying to make sense of what he had seen. Realizing quickly that it could not be made sense of, and the Triangle was known for all kinds of unique disturbances, he focused on getting to the lifeboat.

One of the lone swimmers had reached it and was now standing in the middle, giving orders. After a minute or so fruitlessly pulling on the starter cord, the figure abandoned the motor and passed out the oars. The other two swimmers reached the boat and were hauled in, then the standing passenger began ordering the other occupants again. Now Mark was close enough to distinguish Jerry's voice.

"No! I promise, Fielding, put your back to the way we're going and you'll be able to use your strength better! Ma'am, don't worry about that, you're safe and that's far more impor- stop that, everyone's in this together, we're all working together, none of us is going to shirk!" The other occupants' voices rose in complaint, but were quickly crushed by Jerry's orders. Mark almost grinned. Jerry had only been in the Army a few years, before the Navy and then the ferry, but he would never lose that commanding tone. It certainly came in handy now- "None of that! Row, everyone row, and at the same time! The better you obey, the sooner we'll be back to civilization!"

Contrary to all laws of probability, the lifeboat actually began moving in a single coherent direction: vaguely towards Mark. The oars were finally dipping in something like cadence, and Jerry stopped haranguing long enough to throw the preserver the remaining 20 feet to Mark.

"Get in," Jerry barked when Mark bumped up against the side. "And grab Miss Yumi-whatever's oar, it's too much trouble for her."

Mark complied wordlessly- now was not the time for friendly banter. Now was the time to respect Jerry's authority and get the job done. "Now, right side, stow your oars. That means stop rowing! No, you're on the left side, you row. See that island? Don't stop rowing to look! If you can't look without stopping rowing, don't look! We're going to that island. The lifeboat has its own radio, we're just going to the island to wait until we can get picked up. Right side, start rowing again! We're now pointing to the island, so everyone rows. Pull together! Better not to row at all than foul the oar ahead of you." Jerry continued his orders, and Mark smiled to himself.

The other occupants had stopped protesting and were actually trying to obey, finally cowed by Jerry. He was finally satisfied enough to pause his litany and crouch beside Mark for a moment.

"Have you checked the radio recently? Does it work?" Mark shrugged.

"Haven't checked it since I got in, you put me right on the oar. I haven't checked it recently, either, but it's military-grade- barring anything drastic, there's no reason why it shouldn't work." Jerry nodded brusquely, but Mark knew him well enough to see the doubt and worry in his face. Something beyond even the ferry's peculiar behavior was troubling him, and Mark bit his tongue when he was about to ask: the thing Jerry needed least right now was someone else questioning him. Mark bent to his oar.

---

"Well?" Jerry's voice was near panic now. They had reached the island quickly and set up something like camp. Then he and Mark had taken the radio off away from the others, to try and connect to the outside world and to have a private conversation. Mark concentrated one last time, fiddling with the knobs, then shook his head.

"There's nothing wrong with the radio," he said quietly. "We're in a dead spot, I'm sure of it- remember how you said the radar blinked out? The Triangle has spots big enough to swallow the QE2. If we had a satellite phone, the spot wouldn't matter. But the radio's useless, as would be any cell phones- even if there was coverage out here, which I doubt."

Jerry swore- again. His inner soldier was getting more and more dominant.

Mark shrugged. "It's not like we're lost in the Pacific. The compass still works, and the spot has to have boundaries somewhere."

Jerry nodded. "So we could send out a couple of people in the boat, heading as far as they could in whatever direction, taking the radio and trying to use it until they got a signal." Mark nodded back. Jerry was still very disturbed, though, and after a moment he spoke again.

"I really have no idea where we are. The radar was acting up from the start, I think; long before it went out entirely, it was misrepresenting our position. Then, about the time I realized that, the steering quit working and the radar just stopped."

They sat silent for a few minutes. Jerry's eyes had turned back to the radio, looking right through it, when Mark spoke again. "What will you tell the troops?" After a moment, the question registered, and Jerry's eyes refocused.

"Well," he started slowly, "that you and one of them will go out next morning. I think the best choice would be either Crichker or Fielding. Crichker's English isn't the greatest, but he's a good, fast worker and obeys better than the others. Fielding is a good worker, too, and knows about as much as you, I think, but you've already seen the respect he has for authority."

Mark snorted, eyes narrowing. "Little twit. It's his kind that's responsible for America's bad international relations. I'll take Crichker." Jerry nodded, but didn't speak again. "What else? How much will you tell them?"

"I really don't know," Jerry said softly. "If I knew what happened out there, I would tell them. What did happen?" Jerry looked up now, and Mark was shocked to see the almost hunted look in Jerry's eyes. "What happened?"

They had thus far avoided the subject of the ferry's behavior- it was too unreal to discuss. Now Mark took his turn staring off the island into the darkness around, staring at- what? What hadhappened?

"I think we need to discuss this all together," he said finally, nodding to the small fire where the rest of the passengers were. Fielding himself was declaiming, telling everyone who couldn't help but listen about toasting the C-rations in the fire, and Jerry sneered.

"Arrogant snot. Well, you're right. We need to talk it over together." He got up from his kneel with a small groan and walked toward the fire. After a thoughtful moment, Mark followed.

"But how they not think us insane?" Crichker was demanding. He, LeBerger, and Fielding were still standing around the fire. "Ferry flying, goes very fast, sounds usual?" His English only got worse when he was agitated, apparently.

"Mais, but, we all saw the same thing," LeBerger replied smoothly. "If we all agree, how can they say we are all insane? The Triangle has a long strange history, but never before has a single event had 15 witnesses- if I remember correctly."

Fielding quickly responded. "Well, yeah, that's true. But Crichker's right too, this is too weird for us to not take some special measures. I say we need to be sure we all tell the exact same story when we're picked up. Let's compare notes." He stopped when Jerry walked up to the fire. "What?"

"What, captain." Jerry spoke evenly, but with an edge of authority. "I am- was- the captain of the ferry, and I am also the only one here with military experience. Someone had to take control, and I am that one. Therefore, everyone will continue to take orders from me, and show respect."

"Whatever," Fielding replied casually. "So cap'n, whaddya say? My idea meet with approval?"

"Yes, your idea meets with approval," Jerry stated, looking into Fielding's insolent eyes. "And I am serious. You will learn respect, and you will obey me. It's the only way we're going to get off this island.

"Now, first we're going to erect the best shelter we can. Miss Yumi-whatever has sufficient clothing for everyone to get something like a bedroll, and I think she has enough left over to make a small tent between the trees. So that should be enough for all of us.

"Our engineer-" a jerk of the head at Mark, now standing by the fire "-has determined that the radio is operational. However, we are currently in a dead spot, meaning the radio won't work. Tomorrow morning, Mark and Crichker will take the radio, compass, and food for two days in the boat. Mark thinks he can probably repair the motor, so they should be able to go far enough to get outside the edge of the dead spot. If they don't succeed before midnight, they'll head back, and we'll repeat in another direction.

"Our food should last for over a month, so no-one needs to worry about starving before a boat comes to pick us up. You're right, Fielding- when they do pick us up, we'll have to tell what happened. And we will need to tell them the same story. Call everyone else over, we're going to discuss that now."

The three men nodded, with varying degrees of respect, and went to bring the others. A few had already fallen asleep, and had to be awakened, but in less than 10 minutes everyone was assembled and Jerry began.

"Let me start by apologizing. As captain, I was responsible for the ship and all those on board. Although no-one is missing, we are all safely here, and the ferry disappeared in an unnatural way, the first problem lay in straying off course. That was my doing, and my responsibility. I lost the ferry." He drew a faltering breath, and Mark realized why he was so shaken- not because of what the ferry did, but because he, the captain, had lost his ship.

"I know that the company will probably fire me. But I would like to be sure that we all tell the same story. I don't need a reputation for making up tall tales to explain my errors, I'll have enough trouble as it is. So let's start by talking about what happened first.

"When we left the dock, the radar was giving some strange output, but I thought it got over it. Instead, I now think it just went close to normal- close enough for me not to detect the error, but not quite right. Due to that, I went off-course, I don't know how far. I didn't realize the radar was still not working until I saw the island we're standing on now: I had never seen it before, and knew the radar was not showing the right co-ordinates. It was just then that the radar blinked out entirely, when we entered the dead spot. I thought, and still think, that we were erring to the East, and so I can give any searching boats an idea of where we are, but as I said, I am not sure.

"That was also the moment I lost control of the vessel. I could feel it when I tried to turn the ferry back to the West- it wouldn't respond. We were caught up in something stronger than the engine, some current, and we were beginning to speed up. Most likely, that's when it began rising out of the water. The rest you know- abandoning ship and reaching the island. Does anyone have anything to add or dispute?"

No-one replied. Fielding looked like he wanted to put in something, but couldn't think of anything to say. Mark watched for a minute, until the silence grew slightly uncomfortable, then asked his question.

"Jer- Captain, what do you think the ferry was doing? You told us the facts, but what do they mean?" Jerry looked back.

"They mean nothing to me. All we can do is tell the same story, but that won't be for a while yet. Let's get the tent set up, and then Mark and Crichker can get ready for tomorrow."


	4. Discovery

Chapter 4

Discovery

Esgalmir grumbled to himself as he got out of bed, still peeved about the reaction he had received for his news. Balimar had been kindly but amused. Malfinien, however... judging by her response (sniggering, followed by chuckling, followed by peals of laughter), she found his consternation more laughable than anything in the past millennium. They all knew, of course, about the story, and had known for years. Esgalmir suspected that the entire Elvish world knew about him by now, the most unobservant Elf still around. Well, the damage was done. He washed himself up and got ready for the day.

Once again, he found a new "Lord of the Rings" shipment in the shop. This time, Darryl had forged a deal with some sword-making company, and today had brought Anduril. Theoretically.

Esgalmir was pleased to see that the sword was well-made: it really did balance. It was not quite as long as the real Anduril had been, by all accounts, and he doubted it resembled Elessar's sword in the slightest, but the moviegoers would probably like it.

He was a little disappointed by Darryl, though, as the man continued to show an absolute inability to distinguish between good pieces of fantasy work and bad ones. He droned on and on, talking about how he would "get a handle" on all fantasy business in this here town, and Esgalmir found himself wondering, again, how this man had become involved in this line of work. When he finished for the day, he got back on the Internet to search for any news on the space front.

He had only just connected, however, when something thankfully caught his eye- a "hot" news story about UFOs, under the main info section. Curious as to how such a tabloid subject had made it into the official news, he read the article.

"Last week, what may be the first officially documented UFO sighting occurred in Eastern Texas. National Guard radar stations detected a strangely-shaped body flying high over a local city. The object vanished before they could get a visual, but Lt.-Col. William Jameson stated it could not have been any aircraft as we know them:

"'We have nothing that flies in that straight a pattern without going much faster.'

"It was also 'too heavy and bulky to fly, even if it had been...behaving like a plane.'

"UFO adherents have been quick to notice that the object was coming straight out of the Bermuda Triangle. The Triangle is infamous for inexplicable events, including supposed alien sightings and abductions. But Jameson was equally quick to point out there could be man y other explanations.

"'Secret projects, radar malfunction, prank, even a side effect of a natural occurrence like sunspots,' he listed. 'Aliens are by far the least likely.'

"Many people are not so dismissive of the extraterrestrial idea. 'They're scouting us out, just like the movie,' confided a wide-eyed Dallas resident who asked not to be identified. 'Checking our alertness,' agreed Sarah Beninni of Houston.

"Whatever the true identity of the object, this is the first time something has appeared on official radar screens without an easy explanation. UFO or not, the government needs to investigate this occurrence. Such an easy penetration of coastal defenses suggests lax work on the part of Homeland Security."

From there it turned into a political complaint, accusing the President of- what a surprise- wasting money. But Esgalmir couldn't care less about that. The thing that really worried him was the apparent source of the object. Perhaps some ship had found the Straight Road? Worried, he switched over to search and began looking for more information.

He didn't find any more information about the incident, just various takes on the information presented in the article. But when he checked to see if any ships had gone missing in the Caribbean recently, voilà, the ferry line "Majesty" had reported No. 9 missing last week. Just a day after the UFO sighting. A search using Majesty and No. 9 uncovered another story, this time on MSN: "Castaway in the Caribbean."

Esgalmir read the article, his eyes steadily widening. There could be no doubt- Ferry No. 9 had stumbled across the Straight Road. He found his pulse quickening, his hand on the mouse slipped with sweat. He paused in his reading long enough to dash off an e-mail to Balimar, then, unable to help himself, continued reading the horrifying news.

He needed to meet the passengers, he decided. Or, at least, to meet one of the crew members. The thought came to him suddenly- if they remembered well enough where the ferry had entered the Road, he could go to Valinor himself. He fell back from the screen, mouth open slightly in the shock his idea caused him.

His emotions caught him like a sudden wave, cold and hot at the same time. His heartbeat fell into his stomach, his gut twisted at this hope beyond hope. He could leave this world, this constant moving from life to life, with no hope of an end, no possibility of escape. No Elf would want to commit suicide merely to leave this world, with the unknown of the Halls facing them, but sometimes, Esgalmir had almost felt it would be worth it.

He could see Lindaril again. He had almost forgotten her, it had been so long. His memory might not fade, but the countless years had created many more memories to crowd out his earlier ones.

Forgotten? No, more of a repression. He would have faded if he hadn't fought like he did, if he hadn't hidden those memories. Now, those memories found a weak point in his ancient armor, a breach in the walls he had built to keep himself sane. To Elves, memory can be more real than life, and Esgalmir found himself helplessly thrown back in time.


	5. Lindaril

Chapter 5

Lindaril

_"Brother? What are you doing?" she asked, squinting at him in the early morning._

_"Sleeping," he mumbled through the sheets. "Go outside and bother Merenmacil if you want to ask stupid questions."_

_She didn't say anything, but Esgalmir knew she hadn't left. Just as he summoned the willpower to lift his face off the bed, he received a severe poke in the side, and jerked back. He looked up with a hurt expression._

_"Wake. Up," she commanded, her grin giving the lie to her sober tone. "Merenmacil wants you."_

_"Well, what of it?" he grumbled. "He can come talk to me, or you can tell me now what he needs. It's too early."_

_"You wouldn't have any trouble if you hadn't been doing whatever-you-were-doing last night. What were you doing, anyway?" she added curiously. "I know you got back to camp late, but why?"_

_"You weren't asleep?" he asked, looking slightly embarrassed "I thought for sure you were..." She smirked._

_"Clearly not." When he made as if to go back to sleep, she frowned. "Esgalmir, Merenmacil's serious. He may not be your official commander, but he was kind enough to remind me that we owe him for letting us use his camp. And now he wants you."_

_"If you must know, I was off scouting last night at his request," replied Esgalmir, head now under his pillow. "So I don't feel particularly indebted to him."_

_"Lindaril? Esgalmir?" Merenmacil's voice pierced the tent canvas. "Esgalmir, we need you again."_

_"Coming," Esgalmir grumbled, resigned. He sat up and Lindaril bounced off the bed. He blinked at her. "You're already dressed."_

_"Course I am, sleepy. And if you get up-" she made as if to poke him again "-you can be too!"_

_"Well, go out then," he muttered. He would have snarled if he had the energy. Lindaril snickered and headed out the door. Esgalmir dressed, grumbling about sisters, and then followed her._

_Merenmacil was, predictably, waiting right outside the tent flap. His expression revealed that this was not just your typical do-me-a-favor request. Esgalmir straightened, wary._

_"Esgalmir, we have a situation." Yep, he had been right. "One of the prisoners escaped last night . . ."_ The memory faded, but when Esgalmir reached out for reality, he found only another memory.

_Esgalmir was sitting in a chair, an intricate chair. Dust motes danced before him in the afternoon sunlight, and he found himself strangely interested in them. A sudden air current set them all dashing about crazily, and he turned towards the door._

So that's what this memory was. _Lord Elrond had just walked in, and he stood there, eyeing Esgalmir with- anger? Disappointment? Disgust? Pity? He was far too good at concealing his emotions. He stood for a minute, looking at Esgalmir, until Esgalmir began to wish he could just disappear. But Elrond continued standing there silently, regarding him, reading him, until it was almost unbearable. Then he spoke._

_"What happened?" His voice was as inscrutable as his expression, but his eyes looked straight into Esgalmir's, into and through to his very fëa._

_Esgalmir didn't need to ask what Elrond was referring to. He sat mute, trying to order his thoughts, hoping for a way to extricate himself from the consequences of his actions. Elrond stood patiently, waiting. Finally, Esgalmir took a breath._

_"He made an improper insinuation." When his mouth finally opened, his words tripped over one another, rushing to escape. "Beleglas, he said, he said I and Lindaril, he said we, uh-" Esgalmir blushed deeply as he tried for an inoffensive means of communicating what Beleglas said. "-were lovers," he finished wretchedly, letting his head drop and looking very interested in the carpet's weave._

_"Not surprising," replied Elrond smoothly. Esgalmir's head shot back up. What? Did Elrond think it too? "You forget yourself," Elrond warned calmly, seeing the look in Esgalmir's eyes. "I did not say I believed it or even hinted it. It is not surprising that Beleglas would say that about you and Lindaril: he himself loves her, or thinks he does. Yet she does not love him. What he said came from a bitter heart. But that is not what I asked: I asked what you did."_

_Esgalmir admitted Elrond was right. He knew Beleglas liked Lindaril, and perhaps it was a brother's protectiveness that pushed him over the edge, but he still thought Beleglas had gone too far to be borne._

_"Beleglas said..." Esgalmir frowned, trying to remember exactly what Beleglas said. "He said, 'What do you and Lindaril have between you, exactly?' But there was the insinuation, the way he said it. He accosted me, I was visiting one of the gardens higher up and he came to find me. He wanted to talk about Lindaril from the start, I guess, although he began by discussing our past."_

_Elrond spoke again, and this time Esgalmir could detect something in his voice- impatience. "Esgalmir, I know what Beleglas said. I have talked with him. I'm not trying to get your side of the story, or what caused your reaction. I'm asking you what you did. Or can you not face it yourself?"_

_He was right. Esgalmir quit trying to justify his actions and just recounted them. "He said what he said, then I grabbed him- by the collar, I think. I had my dagger in my hand, I must have pulled it out then. And I told him to never insult my sister again or I would kill him, kinslaying or not."_

_Elrond sighed. "Thank you. Now, would you care to give me an analysis of your actions?" Elrond raised Esgalmir's chin to look in his eyes, and for the first time, he smiled. "Esgalmir, I am not here to judge you before your execution. I am here to help you, as always."_

_"Yes sir." Esgalmir gave him an apologetic smile. "I shouldn't have reacted so quickly or so harshly. I did not think about what Beleglas said or why he might have said it, and I think I was being proud too. Proud and haughty," he whispered, his eyes slipping away. "I was showing off my prowess to myself, treating Beleglas like an enemy. Pretending to be a high and mighty lord who had suffered a grave insult." He dropped his head again, this time in shame and repentance._

_"It was a grave insult," Elrond told him gently. "You did not imagine it; when Beleglas told me, he did his best to conceal what he meant by it, but I would have taken it to have the same meaning myself. However, I agree with you that you over-reacted. More thought, less action, perhaps." He grinned. "I might have done the same thing a few centuries ago. But now you need to apologize to Beleglas, and he to you- and to Lindaril." Esgalmir nodded miserably._

_"Come..." Esgalmir rose to follow Elrond from the room._ Even as he did, it dissolved and he vanished into another memory.

_The place was cold, cold as Morgoth's lair. Esgalmir shuddered, wondering what he was doing in such a bleak area. It wasn't cold physically as much as mentally: something had happened here, or would happen here, that hovered around his heart like a mist of ice._

_He looked up through the trees, seeking the stars. But the night was overcast, and even the moon was hidden._ He recalled what this was, and what had happened- almost more of a nightmare than a memory. _He sat down and continued to wait._

_Lindaril had invited him out to "a little place she knew." Her demeanor had suggested that she had something important to tell him, and so he complied, but now he wondered if she was just playing another trick on him. Looking at the haggard stones around him, leaning and worn, he was beginning to suspect the latter. After waiting another 15 minutes, he decided it was time to leave._

_Just then something slipped into the clearing in front of him. It was a wolf, a huge and ancient chieftain of the tribes of the Misty Mountains. Esgalmir crouched back into the small bay, preparing to climb his way up and escape the hunter, very glad the wind was blowing towards him. Then he realized the wolf was not hunter, but hunted._

_A shadow moved in the trees, almost too dim for even Esgalmir's eyes to catch it. The wolf turned, sensing its pursuer, and growled deep in its throat, a growl of challenge and of fear. Then the shadow crept into the clearing, and Esgalmir caught his breath._

_It was a cat, a giant cat twice the size of the wolf or more. He had never seen such a creature before. The fur was black and smooth, almost slicked against its form. Its tail slithered across the grass, and Esgalmir saw with a touch of fear that it was reptilian. The eyes glowed a malevolent blue, and he understood that this was not a natural creature._

_He wished he had brought his bow with him. The animal in the clearing was the source of the cold feeling, he realized, some dark creature bred or created by the Enemy. Its teeth dripped saliva as it moved in for the kill, a horrid beast playing a horrid game._

_The wolf was almost trembling in fear, its growls turned into whimpers. Esgalmir, drawn by a terrified curiosity, watched as the cat-creature circled in towards the wolf. The wolf tried to flee several times, but the cat could move like a striking snake, and there was no chance of escape. Esgalmir could almost feel the cat laughing, sneering at its helpless opponent, but it finally tired of the game and dove in._

_There was no fight at all. The cat feinted with a paw, and when the wolf snapped defensively, its other paw whipped around from underneath and virtually ripped the wolf's head off. It deliberately moved in, settling down and eating steadily._

_Animals hunted one another all the time, there was nothing strange in that. But the killer here was an unnatural, brutal creature, and the whole thing just felt wrong. Especially when the cat rose from its feast: there was nothing left but a dark patch on the ground. Esgalmir resisted a violent urge to be sick._

_The beast set about ironically washing itself, as if such a filthy creature could care about cleanliness. It suddenly paused, one paw in the air. Esgalmir heard with a horrible feeling of dread and disbelief his sister's voice, finally coming out to meet him. She was singing to herself, not loudly, but it was enough for Esgalmir to hear- and the cat. Esgalmir glanced back through a crack in the stone to see Lindaril walking down the path. She stopped, suddenly, like a predator herself, then crouched against the stone._

_When he turned back, the creature was gone. He didn't even know which way it had gone, whether away from them or towards. His fear threatened to overcome him, to become his whole being, as he realized it was now stalking Lindaril._

_He never really knew what happened next. When he had calmed down enough to sort his memories out, he only remembered a howling screech, a sudden scream, and a blend of colors, gray and black and washed-out green. Lindaril told him what happened, later._

_The creature had leapt out from a tree, landing right in front of her. Then Esgalmir had appeared on the stones above, had leapt onto the creature as it attacked, with the only weapon he had- his boot dagger. Confused by the second attacker materializing, and doubtless slowed somewhat by the full meal, the creature had been too slow to defend itself, and Esgalmir's dagger cleaved through its jugular. The howling screech had been Esgalmir himself, the scream Lindaril._

_As he jumped back from the dying beast, Esgalmir returned to complete consciousness, breathing heavily and dripping blood from his knife hand. Lindaril stared at him, her irises practically vanished in her fright._

_"Es- Es- Esgalmir?" Then she fainted._

Esgalmir knew the next thing he had done was to pick her up and carry her back to camp. But now more memories were grabbing at him, and he lost the image.

Disjointed, confused sensations struggled to dominate, the memories surging out now, mixing themselves- he could hear Lindaril's voice while he saw the foul face of an Orc, feel his hand on the bow as he smelled the scent of a fire. He blacked out.


	6. A stalker?

Chapter 6

A stalker?  
  


The sound of his alarm clock awoke him the next morning, and he rolled over to find himself lying on the floor. As he stretched and prepared to leave, he wondered what he was doing there- then last night's experience hit him with a rush, threatening to pull him into his memories again. He closed his eyes, begging for it to stop, but it was not as severe as before, and left him shaky and sweating but still in the present. Chain the memories- then they wouldn't make any more trouble.

He dressed for the day, then remembered it was Saturday: no work. Instead of taking his usual stroll through the park, or even heading out beyond the city limits, he set about contacting Mark Lewis.

As he searched for a phone number or an address, he carefully kept his mind on the job at hand. He could feel the memories, like something out of the corner of his eye, but he refused to look at them again. To tell the truth, it had felt almost good to look at them again, to see Lindaril again, but last night had been too much of a good thing.

He sat back, at last defeated. Mark didn't have any connection with Majesty that he could find, and Jerry's e-mail had been hidden from the public. So he called Malfinien.

"Hi, this is Liz!"

Remembering that her current human name was Elizabeth, he replied, "Hello, Malfinien, it's-"

"Leave a message, and I'll get back to you as soon as I can- and I hate these too!" *click*

Esgalmir jerked back in surprise. Malfinien's message sounded so much like her answering he didn't know what to say, and just dropped the phone back on the receiver. He thought for a moment, then tried again, knowing what to expect this time. After leaving a message, he checked the refrigerator, discovered he would need to venture out again, and collected his things for going out.

---

Shaking his head, Esgalmir walked out of the grocery store. He was just as used to humans' incredible preoccupation with... physical... romance as to their inability to trust, but he could never understand it. Personally, it was an affront to him, an insult to those it tried to manipulate and to those it showed.

He shook off the ridiculous images from the magazine covers and refocused his thoughts on Mark Lewis. Malfinien knew the nuances of current human culture better than the rest of the Elves, and Esgalmir hoped she might have another idea about locating the ferry mechanic. He walked up the steps to the door to his apartment and was about to pull out his key when something tickled at the corner of his eye.

He continued his motions slowly, avoiding looking directly at the man who was watching him from a few doors down. Elves can look at everything in a scene at once, unlike humans who can only focus on one thing at a time, and Esgalmir realized it was a young girl-- young even for a human, probably 15 years old. She was definitely watching him, although being as subtle as she could. She must have realized why he suddenly slowed his motions, though, because she let her gaze slide off him and down the road, then casually sauntered down the road and past him. He unlocked the door and slipped inside, but when he looked out the window she had gone. Strange, and a little unnerving. What was so interesting about him? Surely she did not suspect--

Foolishness. Humans simply did not believe in Elves nowadays, anymore than they believed in magic. A few hundred years ago they still had to be very careful, but now the humans wouldn't allow themselves to notice the supernatural. Esgalmir reached his room and checked the old answering machine he'd installed. Someone had left a message, but since the appliance predated personal computers, the recording was little more than static.

Esgalmir sighed and called Malfinien again. After 4 rings someone picked up.

"Hi, this is Liz!" He waited for the "Leave me a message" to start, but it didn't. Instead, after a moment, he heard "Hello? Hello?" Then *click*.

Esgalmir stared at the silent phone, then gave a resigned laugh. She needed a new answering message, that was clear. He re-dialed the number and she picked up immediately.

"Hi?" A touch doubtfully this time.

"Malfinien, this is Esgalmir," he replied. "Sorry about that last time, you answered the same way as your machine."

"Oh, did I? Sorry about that," she breezed. "Listen, I'm glad you called. I tried to leave a message. Have you heard about that fascinating UFO? I'd love to talk about it. How about meeting you for lunch tomorrow? Say, about 1:25?"

"Sure," he replied, mentally reeling, and hung up. "Meeting you for lunch" meant they needed to talk about something very important. "1:25" had never needed to be used before, but Esgalmir knew it meant all the Elves in the state were supposed to meet. Clearly he wasn't the only one worried about the ferry.


	7. Sarah

Chapter 7

Sarah

Sarah frowned slightly as she walked down the street, past the local gas station. He had noticed her, despite all she had done to keep a low profile. Why else would he have suddenly slowed like that? It had been like a slow-motion shot-- his hands suddenly moved as though through molasses, and his demeanor became unreadable. She sighed.

He was truly intriguing. That first time she'd seen him, it was like seeing one of those really attractive movie actors. Sarah was hardly a ditz, but no girl would ignore such grace, such a flawless complexion, such thoughtless perfection.

She was hardly a fool, either. No dreams about instantaneous everlasting love-- she had deliberately pushed the incident back into her mind and ruthlessly flattened the crush that threatened to come to life. But when she'd seen him again, walking down the same road at the same time, she became helplessly fascinated by him.

Sarah was one of those people who wants to grow up to be so many different things they usually become menial workers. Right now, her two strongest interests were reporting and movie-making, and if this guy wasn't born actor material she didn't know what was. As to reporting, she fancied it would be interesting to find out about his life like a real reporter would.

Now she hurried to the bus stop, it would be arriving any minute now. While waiting at the stop, she pulled out her notebook and twiddled her pencil over her dossier on-- she realized she hadn't given him a name! Clearly, she needed to find out his real name, but until then she needed some pseudonym. Mr. X was too silly, and he wasn't much of a Mister anyway... she grinned as she remembered the particular actor he reminded her of, with his amazing gracefulness. "_Name = Legolas_" she wrote, thinking of some of her sillier friends.

Sarah stopped and crammed her notebook back into her backpack, the bus was pulling around the corner. On the way home, she continued her scribbling.

Sex? _Male, duh_

Height? _Hmm... more than me, so at least 5'4"_

Eyes? _Don't know yet..._

Hair? _Don't know yet, always wearing hat_

Distinguishing marks? _Not a clue!_

She scowled at her list. This wouldn't get her any farther than "handsome stranger" would. And she wasn't finding out much about his life, either. He left his apartment too early for her to be done with school, and there was no way Mom would allow her to go off to the downtown to spy on some man. Ludicrous... instinctively she reached up and pressed the button, her stop was next. As she descended from the bus, she began formulating a plan to get her near his home next morning.

---

"Mom? We're out of milk," Sarah called. "I can go get some from the store if you want..."

"Sure, go ahead." Sarah grinned. That had been easy enough, as long as her little brother didn't check the downstairs fridge. The route to the store ran right by Legolas' apartment; maybe he would be coming out? Then she would at least know what time to tail him to his work. She hunted down her notebook and headed for the bus with 1 minute to spare. Perfect timing.

The bus took her past the apartment-- _Apartment name = Golden Shore_-- but no Legolas did she see. Ah well, the best-laid plans of mice and schoolgirls often went astray. She'd come back later, maybe even today...


	8. The Meeting

-Author's note-

Yes, I am wicked and stole a good idea from another FF.net writer, Crimson Starlight-- putting Elvish (Sindarin in this case) in brackets, {}. So that's what those mean. And go read her stuff, it's good too.

Chapter 8

The Meeting

{No! I say, any reaction to this is foolishness! We cannot do anything. We could conceivably stir up interest, but that is precisely what we do NOT want to do. How do we know anyone is taking this seriously?}

{But Firlaith, surely you do not think I counsel action? I merely think we should look into this. Find who was there, talk to them perhaps, make sure we know-}

{Know what? How can knowing-}

{-sure we know what they might or might not do. Better to know when the worst is going to come and be prepared than live in worry.}

Esgalmir put his head in his hands. Everyone had come to Malfinien's house on time, and it had taken almost 10 minutes for Firlaith to have his usual violently hands-off reaction. Malfinien was sitting back in a corner, next to her harp, looking as disappointed as Esgalmir himself felt. Most of the other Elves, he noted, had gone into the next room over, to talk about other matters; it wasn't often they met together, and speaking Sindarin was such a pleasant change.

Or would be pleasant, if it weren't for Firlaith. Lothwen tried to reason with him, but nooooo... Esgalmir was about ready to get up and smack Firlaith on the back of the head, he was being so stubborn. Instead, he settled on an interjection to try and stop the argument.

{Firlaith, stop acting like a hard-headed Dwarf,} he snapped. THAT got a reaction.

Firlaith froze. Slowly, he rotated on the ottoman, his upper body motionless, until he was face to face with Esgalmir.

{Don't ever say that again.} Esgalmir eyed the older Elf cooly.

{And why not? You're clearly not listening to what Lothwen is actually saying. She keeps insisting on NOT taking any action, on simply learning more about these particular humans. I for one would have done so on my own, were it not for Malfinien calling together this meeting.}

{I will take no action, whatever you choose to do. And think about what you are planning: if you expose yourself, you expose all of us.}

{I'd like to add another reason to try to contact these people,} Esgalmir said after a moment. {One that none of us has yet mentioned.} Someone in the next room over heard him, and their talk quieted. Esgalmir stilled the emotions and memories beginning to stir in his mind, and spoke. {What if they can lead us to the Straight Road?}

Silence. Then Firlaith said slowly, {How... how do you know if we can take the Straight Road? Not one of us has the knowledge to pass the girdles of the Valar and reach the Blessed Realm. To try to contact them in this hope is no reason at all.} No-one spoke for a long moment.

{So what do you propose we do?} asked Esgalmir bitterly. {Stay here, for the endless aeons resting before us? Wander lonely through the world of the humans, doing nothing of note for fear of being discovered, building no relationships with Men, just trying to survive? We cannot live as the Eldar here. We have known this for years. And now, when we have the chance, you would choose this life of nothingness?}

{I would choose Valinor,} said Malfinien simply. A collective murmur from the other Elves, yes, they would rather go to Aman than stay here. Firlaith shrugged.

{I did not say I would choose to remain here. I said we might not have a choice.}

{But you said we should not even try!} Esgalmir snapped. {I would rather-- I would rather end my own life than live another 10,000 years like this!} He bowed his head, shocked at himself. To commit suicide was to scorn Eru's gift, and what Esgalmir had just let out of his mouth amounted to nothing less than blasphemy. The tense silence of the other Elves told him they felt the exact same way.

{Forgive me, I did not mean-}

{Thank you, Malfinien,} said Lothwen, ignoring him. {Thank you for trying to have a coherent meeting. Firlaith, everyone.} She bowed and walked rapidly out the front door. The other Elves followed, murmuring thanks to Malfinien and goodbyes to Firlaith. Last of all, Firlaith got up, thanked Malfinien, and strode from the house. Malfinien looked at Esgalmir.

{Goodbye,} she said simply, then turned and disappeared into the next room. Esgalmir nodded dumbly, got up from his chair, and walked out the door.


	9. He has WHAT?

Chapter 9

He has WHAT?

Sarah couldn't believe her luck. On the way back from the store, carrying a gallon of milk for appearances sake, Legolas had come out just as the bus stopped. She changed directions to follow him, hoping she had managed to be nonchalant, and settled down at the opposite end of the bus.

She thought her luck had run out when he stayed on the bus past the businesses and into another residential area: she wouldn't be finding out where he worked. However, this was one of the nicest areas, and she decided she could at least find out a little about him. Maybe he'd even let his hair show.

Although Sarah was homeschooled, she could read emotions just fine, and it didn't take a psychologist to tell Legolas was very nervous about something. Plenty of seats waited empty, but he didn't take one, he just stood next to the door and fidgeted. She noticed he didn't use his hands to steady himself; even when the bus swerved hard to the left or the right he kept his balance. It seemed not to even take up any of his thought-- he just did it.

He leapt out of the bus the moment it reached his stop, and Sarah followed more cautiously. He walked, somewhat jerkily she thought, through a few blocks until he reached a small house with a number of cars parked out front. Number 92, Chestnut Circle. Sarah noted absently that this street actually had chestnut trees on it, unlike most tree-named streets. Probably a sign of how well-off the residents were.

Across from the house was a small park. More of an intention than a reality, the bench it contained took up almost its entirety. Sarah settled down on the bench and pulled out her notebook. She was determined not to attract attention this time, and so she turned carefully away from the door of the house. Three more cars arrived while she sat there, and she resisted the urge to record their licence plate numbers, settling instead for covertly watching the drivers as they entered the house.

Strangely enough, they also seemed nervous. More than that, they were just as incredibly good-looking and graceful as Legolas. Perhaps they were a special clique of, say, gymnasts. Sarah let her mind wander down that vein, and she almost decided this was a secret meeting for determining the American competitors in the 2004 Olympics. When nothing was still happening, she began doodling in her notebook; after a few minutes, she was chagrined to find she had doodled a rather inept picture of Legolas, and flipped to her story in the back of the book. Just then, the door opened again, and she snapped her head up.

An incredibly beautiful woman walked out. Another similarity Sarah noticed-- she was wearing a hat. She walked off down the sidewalk as more people filed out of the house, some to walk away, most to take a car. They all seemed very subdued, and Sarah wondered if they could be the ones who weren't chosen. They also all wore hats. After a pause, a dignified-looking man came out, with somewhat of a pompous look-- _maybe he's the coach!_-- and drove away in the last remaining car.

She waited a few more minutes, then Legolas walked out the door. He had his hat in his hands, and he looked more than subdued, he looked depressed. He stood on the doorstep, turning his hat over and over, and Sarah noted his hair-- _dark brown_-- his eyes-- _deep green_-- and his ears-- _sticking out_ -- before the door behind him slammed shut. He jerked, glanced guiltily around, and walked down the path, slipping his hat on as he did so. Sarah turned back to her notebook to record her new information, but stole one last look as he walked past her.

He hadn't put on his hat very well this time, and his left ear showed. A strange sort of cold buzzing settled somewhere in her chest as she noticed his ear was pointed.

She sat motionless, in shock, until she realized he had walked away, and she needed him so she could find the bus again. He seemed too self-absorbed to have noticed her, and she didn't worry. She had more important things to think about, anyway. How could he have pointy ears? They looked real, but that was impossible. She jumped up and tailed him back to the bus stop.

As she climbed into the bus, Sarah calmed down and began to reason. No-one had pointy ears. So his ears were not real. Either she had imagined them-- she took another look as soon as she got the chance, and nope, the point was still there. So she hadn't imagined them. 

Therefore, he was wearing the ears. She knew there were some weird clubs and whatnot; this one apparently all wore hats and were very graceful. Perhaps putting on pointy ears was part of the doctrine, crazy as it sounded... or, she giggled to herself, perhaps he dressed up as an Elf or a Vulcan a while ago and used the wrong glue. Maybe he'd gotten himself permanently pointy ears!

Whatever the reason, that was certainly a distinguishing characteristic. She proudly scribbled that down in her notebook; all was going well. Then a voice broke in on her.

"So, how interesting am I?"


	10. Busted

Chapter 10

Busted

Esgalmir stood on the doorstep, twisting his hat in his hands. What was he going to do? He'd managed to alienate all the Elves in this city. What he'd said might even be enough for Balimar to declare him Outcast; then he'd be completely on his own. He loitered there, wishing he could travel into the past, just a few minutes! when Malfinien slammed the door behind him.

He jumped. Of course, he needed to go home. That's what was next. He carefully jammed his hat onto his head and made his way from the house.

As he turned onto the road, he noted the girl on the park bench. Some part of him unaffected by the recent catastrophe remembered that she had been on the bus, and that she had been watching him back at the apartment, and that she was getting up and following him. That part eventually meandered its way to the forefront of consciousness, and he smiled. Truly an incompetent tail... he decided to wait until the bus to talk to her.

She did try, he could see that. She hung back as he flagged down the driver, then came running around the corner as if just trying to make it on time. Once on the bus, the girl carefully chose a seat completely out of Esgalmir's sight; by the sounds, she then unzipped her backpack and pulled out a book.

He calmly wandered towards her seat and found he was mistaken-- she had pulled out a notebook and was now scribbling in it, _scribbling about me_, he noticed with an inward laugh. His laugh froze, however, as he read all she had written. Eyes, hair, and... ears. Then he relaxed: she had attributed the ears to an accident or a deliberate costume. But he'd let his ears be seen; in another place and time, that could have been fatal.

He went through with his plan, though, and confronted her. "So, how interesting am I?" Her head snapped up, and her hand twitched violently, sending her pen flying through the air. He continued, amused, "I noticed you watching me at the apartment." She nodded dumbly, staring at his left hand for some reason. He glanced down and realized his subconscious had sent his hand out to grab the pen in mid-arc, and he smiled. "Here you go." She nodded again, still looking at his hand. "I also saw you follow me on the bus, to that house, and back to the bus again." Now she looked embarrassed.

"I thought you wouldn't notice me," she murmured. Esgalmir grinned.

"I didn't, not every time, but my subconscious did. Sometimes it's more alert than I am. But to return to my original question: why am I so interesting?" The girl muttered something. "Pardon?"

"Nothing," she replied, eyes wide. Esgalmir wondered why she was so afraid of him; now that he took the trouble to notice it, the girl was pressed back into her seat, her backpack had fallen forgotten on its side, and one of her hands was reaching out as if seeking an escape. He frowned.

"There is no need to be worried," he soothed. She twitched slightly again, and then smiled at him, but he could see the fear poorly concealed, and he wondered if all human children were so easily scared nowadays.

"All right, I won't be worried," she said stoutly. "And you're interesting because, well... you're very attractive and graceful and I'd like to be a reporter and you remind me of a really good actor and I think you're probably the most handsome man in Charlotte." She blushed, and Esgalmir guessed she hadn't meant to get to that last one. He laughed.

"Oh, I don't know... I don't think I am, somehow." No need to mention that he could only be most handsome man if he was a man. He grinned down at her, and saw the false bravado gradually giving way to calmness. Or, at least, she was over the panic. He tried to 'plunk' down in the empty chair across from her, but Elvish grace was against him there, and he settled into it so gently he heard the girl's slight intake of breath. Not quite a gasp, but close.

"Well, I am somewhat flattered, I suppose," he continued, seeing that she didn't have anything else to say. "If you want to be a reporter, how about asking some questions?" He grinned more broadly, and she finally gave him a genuine smile in return.

"All right, thanks! And the first is: are you an actor?" Esgalmir shook his head.

"No; just because I may look the part, and I must believe you when you say I do, does not mean I could act. No, I am not an actor."

"Just because you can't act?" she asked, grinning. "Why should that stop you?... OK. Where'd you get those points on your ears?"

Inwardly he shrank back, but he'd only suggested the interview to get to this very question. He needed an explanation that could follow the news of his ears, and fortunately, he had one ready; all the Elves did, for this exact eventuality.

"I have the rare elongilitis disease," he told her, "that manifests itself in various ways, one of which is the ears. Good for costumes, but otherwise a source of embarrassment; that's why I always wear the hat." She nodded in feigned understanding, then cast a quick glance out the bus.

"Oh shoot, here comes my stop," she exclaimed. "Thanks very much for talking with me!" The girl became a whirlwind of activity as the bus slowed, trying to close her notebook, finish the notes, and pack everything away at once. She made it, just barely, and as she headed out the door she paused. "I forgot to ask-- your name?"

Esgalmir smiled; he had a ready answer to that as well. "Al," he replied easily. The girl grinned as the doors began to shut.

"Sarah!" she called, then turned and ran off up the path. Esgalmir stood watching her, smiling slightly. There was something different about Sarah, that was sure; but he didn't know what.


	11. And Busted Again

Chapter 11

And Busted Again

Sarah ran back up the path to her house. She had something to tell her friends about come Sunday, that was sure! She knew she needed to wait until Sunday night to tell them, after church, but she felt so impatient she worried she might spill her story right after the morning service. And that wouldn't really do.

However, before she could do any recounting on Sunday, or any other day, she had her mom to worry about: a fact which stared her in the face when she came inside. Sarah looked up to find her mother standing on the landing, arms folded and an expression that foreboded several computer-less days at the least. She shrank back against the now-closed door.

"Where were you?" her mother demanded. "It takes 10 minutes to get to the store." She lifted one hand and touched its index finger. "10 more to get back," touching the next finger. "That leaves an hour and 40 minutes at the store?" Sarah stared at the welcome mat, unable to say anything in her defense. "Well? And while we're discussing things you did wrong, why did you say we needed milk when we didn't? And finally, why did you take your backpack?" Sarah looked up then and saw the fear behind her mother's anger.

"Did you think I was trying to run away?" she asked hesitantly.

"Only when you hadn't come back after an hour!"

"I'm... sorry."

Her mother folded her arms again. "Sarah, you know that isn't enough. Of course you had better be sorry! But where were you?" The fear had almost completely disappeared by now, and Sarah wanted nothing more than to have her mother forget about everything and just leave her alone. No, scratch that, she'd rather vanish herself. "Well?" her mother asked again. Sarah decided she'd better just tell the truth and get it over with.

"There's a guy I saw the other day." She ignored the frightening way her mother's mouth slipped open, the worry and something akin to disgust forming there. "The bus goes right past his apartment. On the way back from the store," she tentatively hefted the milk as proof, "he came out just as my bus stopped across the street from him. I changed buses to follow him. He took the bus into one of the residential areas, the really nice, safe one where Alice lives, and I followed him out where he got off. He went into one of the houses and I sat on the bench in the park across from him." Her mother's mouth was completely open by now. "He came back out about an hour later and I followed him back to the bus. Then he talked to me, and I asked him some questions. Then I got off the bus." She looked into her mother's eyes and knew she had never been such a disappointment before; she would have given up anything she had not to see that sadness.

"Why? You know we don't do that. What were you doing, Sarah, chasing after some boy? Especially one you don't even know! You're 13 years old, you know what can happen. It's not like you at all," she practically pleaded. She doesn't want this to be true any more than I do, Sarah realized. "Didn't you think about us? About how worried we'd be when you disappeared? Didn't you think about anything?"

Sarah dropped her head again. It was true; she was normally much more thoughtful. And while 'good little girl' had a definite pejorative sense to it, Sarah knew the world would call her that. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I can't really say anything else," she mumbled. Her mother sighed.

"All right, I can see you are sorry. Go to your room, I'll call you for lunch. No sense crying over spilt milk. But I don't doubt your father will want to have a talk with you when he hears about this."

Sarah nodded miserably and walked off down to her room. When she reached it, she shut the door very gently and cast herself on the bed, thinking dead thoughts. After a few minutes she pulled off her backpack, switched off the light, and lay there, sniffing to herself.

--

Debbie McHean busied herself with Samuel's math corrections, although her mind was downstairs with Sarah. What could have driven the girl to act like that? She'd never been so incredibly foolish before, and Debbie knew Sarah had a healthy disgust for public school and the silly worry about boyfriends and girlfriends that accompanied it. She wasn't dumb; she was usually careful, almost deliberate; she generally thought more about others than herself-- her actions today were quite abnormal.

"Mommy? You got that one wrong," Sam piped up. "You X'd out number 17, and I did it right!" She blinked down at the page for a long moment, then laughed.

"You're right, Sam. I wasn't thinking about it." Sam looked at her dolefully.

"Did Sarah do a bad thing?" She frowned at him.

"Is that your business?" He shook his head, but still looked worried.

"Is Sarah in trouble?"

She sighed. No use trying to hide anything from Sam, once he got it in his head. "Well, yes. Mommy was very worried-"

"You can say 'I was very worried'," Sam whispered conspiratorially, looking at her out of the corner of one eye. She grinned.

"All right, don't be impertinent. I was very worried because Sarah was gone so long. But it isn't really your business, honey. If you want, you can go get some lunch now." Lunch: the magic word. Actually, with Sam, any food word was magic; he forgot all about his worry and jumped off his chair, his mother watching in amusement. A moment later, she heard the refrigerator door open and she guessed he was after the grape jelly.

She looked back down at the math she'd been correcting and chuckled again. He'd written 24+24=48 and she'd marked it wrong... she shook her head and decided to call Jon while he was still at the office.


	12. Starry Night

Chapter 12

Starry Night

Esgalmir lay on his bed, thinking. The rift with the other Elves was final; when he'd checked his e-mail, there he'd found the message from Balimar informing him that he'd been declared Unfit. Not quite Outcast, but still a black mark that could not be erased. No more meetings, nothing but the news he had to have, and that would be delivered with such great unease he felt he'd rather not get any at all.

Balimar mentioned he might change the verdict in a few years. Esgalmir absently considered this; did he mean a few human years? Balimar was notoriously inconsistent when he used that word. Half the time he referred to the 365 days used by humans, half the time to the much longer 'year' used by the Elves. Esgalmir realized he didn't really care which one it was. He didn't plan on being here in a year, anyway.

He rolled over and stared through the ceiling, determined not to go over the day's events. Well, no, that wasn't accurate; he determined not to go over the meeting. He did go back to thinking about Sarah, and once again he tried to pinpoint why she seemed different.

The Elves may have been cautious not to have any more to do with humans than was necessary, but even so, a few had gotten the attention of members of the opposite gender, down through the ages. That particularly amusing story back in the 7th century could still set him chuckling, and he himself had had a couple run-ins that prompted moves before he'd planned them. Sarah might be no different, although he thought she was probably younger than most; no, there was something else about her.

He sighed. Since he wasn't going to use the Internet, and he didn't need sleep at the moment, he might try catching a bus out to the countryside and spend tonight looking at the stars. Once a month was far less than he'd like, but all he could manage in this light-polluted city. He raised himself up off the bed and began rummaging around, getting together everything he'd need for the trip.

An hour later found him making his way from the bus stop, a lonely metal stand halfway between the city and one of the more distant neighboring towns. There was still far more artificial illumination than would have been optimal, but at least he was away from any visible lights and the noise of the city. After a few minutes he reached his destination-- a small pond, surrounded by low hills and trees that cut off all but the last hints of technology. He stood looking into the dell for a moment, then smiled, cast off his shoes and walked barefoot to the water's edge. After a moment just standing there, eyes closed, breathing the air, he could almost imagine he was back in the past, before Men covered over the world and trammeled the wild. He opened his eyes and looked up into the night sky.

There he was, the Hunter-- or what he was like now. Through the millennia, even the stars had not remained constant, and Esgalmir recalled another Hunter, another night. Concentrating, he brought back the image of the Hunter he had known and superimposed it on that he saw now. Some of the stars had moved only a little, but his left foot had migrated a good thumb's width over. He smiled sadly and saluted the figure in the sky.

"Brother," he whispered quietly before turning away, looking down into the reflected heavens. This was not really why he had come out here, to reminisce and wish for that which was lost. He had only wanted to see the stars again, to feel some peace and some reason for him remaining here. Slowly, he sank down until he was sitting by the shore-- and now, as his eyes finished acclimating to the night, he realized he was not alone.

A figure sat across the water from him, knees up against his chest and arms wrapped around them. He, too, stared into the firmament, motionless but for the wind stirring his hair. Esgalmir peered closer and realized it was a woman. An Elf, actually. Malfinien, to be exact. He wasn't really surprised, but she seemed to remain unaware of his presence. He'd rather it stayed that way and looked back into the sky, seeking the one he'd learned from the Dwarves: the Forge. He found it and repeated the trick he'd done with the Hunter, sighing again at the difference all those years made. Then Malfinien spoke.

"Firlaith?"

"No." Esgalmir didn't want to talk to any other Elf, not now. Especially since Malfinien had just stiffened at the sound of his voice.

"Esgalmir." Almost an accusation. He nodded, though she didn't look towards him. He almost thought she might just get up and leave, but she remained there and he looked back up at the sky.

After a moment she spoke again, in Elvish now. {I got Balimar's letter.} Esgalmir stayed silent. {I'm sorry.}

{I am too,} agreed Esgalmir after a moment. He waited for another statement, another accusation or complaint, but she made none.

{I don't really think-- that,} he added when he decided she wasn't going to say anything else. She did turn and look at him then.

{Don't you?} He searched his thoughts for a minute.

{No,} he replied finally. {I don't. But if it weren't for the chance held out by the ferry, the chance of the Straight Road, I might almost mean it.} She kept looking at him. {Why are you here?} he asked; her gaze was slightly uncomfortable. She might have smiled then, he couldn't be sure.

{Same reason you are. The stars.} Esgalmir nodded; he hadn't really expected anything else.

{What will you do? About Lewis?} She groaned slightly. {Sorry-- you came out here to avoid thinking about that, didn't you?}

{Well, that was in my mind, too,} she admitted. {For all his worry and pessimism, Firlaith is right: about the Straight Road, and about doing anything in general. Most of the other Elves think like he does, too, even Balimar.}

{What do you think?} Esgalmir asked. Malfinien sighed and looked away again. Esgalmir waited for several minutes without a response. {Well?} he asked, slightly impatiently.

Another sigh. {I think we have outstayed our time here. When the Wise left, they left because they knew what was coming and is now come-- our Middle-Earth is all but vanished. We should have left then. We should leave while we have this chance, before Lewis dies. But I'm worried-} She abruptly shut up, seeming to remember who she was talking to, and looked over at him. {I'm going back to the city.}

{Goodbye, then.} She nodded, stood and stretched. Esgalmir watched her until she'd vanished over the lip of the dell, then turned back to the sky.

He stayed there all night, finding the constellations he knew, watching the wandering stars. He knew, of course, their true nature; with their far superior vision, Elves had been able to distinguish the planets as such with their naked eyes, and even some of Jupiter's larger moons. The night sky held far more wonders for them than humans could have ever imagined: a sharp-eyed Elf could distinguish a nebula from a double star with ease.

At some point he fell asleep. He awoke with the Sun, an old ability he had never lost, and set off for the bus stop, rubbing his now grass-stained back thoughtfully. It must be about 5 in the morning, and today would be Sunday; no work, and very little to do. Sarah crept unbidden into his mind, and he wondered at that for a moment. The girl was hardly important, since she hadn't figured out his secret; no, today he needed to resume his search for Mark Lewis. Then he remembered he'd wanted Malfinien to help him.

He reached the stop just in time to watch the back of the bus drive away toward town. No harm done; being immortal does tend to render one more patient. He sat down on the bench and considered the problem. Malfinien could not help him by order of Balimar-- or, more accurately, by suggestion of Balimar, but no-one would go against him. However, she also wanted to find the Straight Road. She didn't need him, she could read just as well as he could, but he wanted to DO something, not just waste his time reading Internet sites and talking to teenage girls.

Speaking of doing something-- he decided a nice walk back to the city would be good exercise. Better yet, a run; the bus wouldn't come for another 2 hours, and Elven patience only goes so far. He set off for his apartment at an easy jog; perhaps he'd find some answers in an unexpected place.


	13. Contact

Chapter 13

Contact

"...and so we'd really prefer not to get mixed up in this." Mark nodded. He was hardly likely to disagree, anyway-- he'd expected to be let go when Jerry had to leave, but the company had been so much more than understanding he realized they were desperately trying to win the crew's good graces. They'd also given a substantial monetary recompense to every passenger, something they were hardly obliged to do. And now they'd come on out and said why.

Jerry had found the article first. Good thing, too, since he was only a handsbreadth away from being fired, and when he showed it to Mark they agreed: the UFO was their dear old Ferry No. 9. Mark idly wondered how long Nick had kept working. The company had clearly reached the same conclusion, and didn't wanting to be associated with UFOs and the accompanying hysteria... so now, of course, they needed to curry both his and Jerry's favor. Mark pulled away from thoughts of blackmail and listened again to the representative.

"...understand you would probably like to release what you know," she was saying. "But I must make this clear to you. If you release details of the story, above all your positions and bearing, you will be let go." They nodded as one.

"Thank you for being so frank with us," Jerry told her as he stood. "We suspected that was what you were doing, but it's nice to hear it confirmed." The rep raised an eyebrow.

"Don't push it." Then she grinned. "I know you two aren't really interested in getting the company involved in anything of this sort, so we're not really worried. Just taking some basic precautions. Have a good day!" Mark followed Jerry out with a nod and a smile to the rep.

"So, no surprises," Jerry muttered, striding down the hall. Mark just nodded. "Weren't you actually planning to release some details?"

"Nothing important," Mark replied, "and nothing that would incriminate the company; more of a story of the landing on the island and how we got off, in all its gruesome depth." He grinned. "But the company might not take that so well, so I won't do it." Jerry nodded.

"Better safe than sorry." Mark couldn't help but agree with that.

"So what is our job, exactly?" Jerry shrugged.

"According to the description, I've been bumped up to quality control; I think that means I'll take occasional trips on random ferries to make sure they're doing things right. Otherwise, pencil pushing."

"And I am...?"

"Mmmm..." Jerry responded thoughtfully, switching to Mark's dossier. His eyebrows rose in surprise. "PR. I would've thought you'd go to captain, take over from Art when he retires."

"PR's good," replied Mark. "Really, anything's good, as long as we don't need to go looking for new jobs."

"Mmmm," responded Jerry again, noncommital this time. Mark cut his eyes over to his friend.

"You're not keen on being a pencil pusher?" Jerry sighed.

"What do you think?"

"You can just be sure those occasional trips aren't so occasional!" Mark answered brightly. "As to PR, I'm going to make sure we get some more Americans on these ferries. Almost all Europeans seems a bit... strange." Jerry nodded.

"Well, your new office is down that way," he finished, handing Mark his dossier and pointing down the hallway to the left. "Mine is a bit farther on, in 11-D. Later." Mark nodded and headed to his office.

What he found required him to pull his jaw back up. The company had outfitted one of the biggest offices in the place for him, with a brand-spanking new computer, an integrated surround sound system, and even a formidable bookshelf. Two desks, three chairs, a window... this was Office Paradise.

He quit gawking and switched on the computer, with no little trepidation. He'd had plenty of important stuff on his old one, not to mention all the setting just the way he liked them, but this self-proclaimed Ultimate Computer would be a new slate... but no, the company had moved everything over. Mark goggled at the frightening speed for a few minutes, then settled down to business.

It was quite a change. No more double-clicking, then going to get a cup of coffee before the program started. Select, click, and there was his e-mail.

Hmmmm... "Welcome to your new position!" from the company, a couple eBay messages, the usual hordes of spam, and one update from Mom. He set about deleting the spam, but found one message from a MalfyMaiden@yahoo.com. If it were not for the odd subject line he would have deleted it along with the rest, but it said, "Mark Lewis life&death please please ple..." He frowned and set Norton's loose on the message. Nothing, and no attachments; he feared a virus, but his curiosity was piqued. He hesitantly opened the message.

Dear Mark Lewis:

This message is being sent to you by a group of friends who heard of your unfortunate incident in the Caribbean. We think you may have found something very important to us, and would like a more detailed description of what happened. We would most rather meet you, but have no desire to frighten you or harm anyone; we know you would not be amenable to a meeting.

Would you be so kind as to call me at (828) 579-0134? I am available any time Wednesday or after 5 all other days. Sincerely, and in hopes that you will not fear us,

Malfinien

He stared at the message in confusion. Was this a prank? It didn't seem like it. A group of UFO afficionados? That seemed far more likely; he had no interest in talking to those kind of people, especially since that would probably violate what the company asked him earlier.

And yet... he decided to save the other messages for later, and did a search on this address. After sorting through masses of information, he found it listed in the teachers section at a women's college up in South Carolina. A woman was listed there, with this address, although her name was shown as Elizabeth. He frowned. Her home number was listed, and yes, it was the same... so this message was from the leader of a group of UFO believers, who also taught harp at a women's college.

Something didn't add up. Maybe it was a stereotype, but he just couldn't see a harp teacher-- or any professor, really-- believing in UFOs that much. He switched windows and re-read the message, then glanced at his calendar. Well, it was Wednesday, and the telephone could hardly give him away or even catch a virus. He picked up the slick new cordless and dialed the number.

Ring, ring, then, "Hello, this is Liz."

"Elizabeth-" he peered at the computer screen "-Smith?"

A pause, then, "Yes?"

He hesitated, then decided to jump right in. "Should I call you Malfinien?"

"Mark Lewis?"

"Yes, I got your message and must confess I was confu-"

"I'm sure you were," she replied briskly. "But we're not dangerous, and we don't believe in UFOs. We'd like to explain everything, and like to thank you for what you found, but we can't do that-- too risky. So instead, could you just give us co-ordinates and bearings and whatever you can find for where the ferry disappeared? We really, really need to find that place."

"No, I am not at liberty to divulge that information," he replied, grinning as he found a place to use that hackneyed line. Then, remembering he was in PR, he continued, "Do you have any plans to come to the Caribbean, ma'am?"

She apparently misunderstood him, though. "Would you accept a personal meeting, then?" she asked, after a moment.

"I just meant, if you were coming, I would offer you our newest package for our ferry line."

The other end stayed silent for a moment. Then, "I might, I might. But only if you would agree to talk with me, not about business."

Mark pondered that for a moment. "Well, I repeat, I cannot tell you what you want to know, but I see nothing wrong with a meeting just to talk. I can tell you about other aspects of the incident, but my company has specifically clamped down on all information pertaining to co-ordinates and bearings."

"But you would agree to a meeting?" she clarified.

"Yes." Decisive, this time.

"Very well. I and my colleagues could use a trip to the Isles. Thank you." She hung up, and Mark sat holding the phone for a few moments, thinking. This was most curious; but if she showed up here, he could handle her. He'd just reiterate what he'd already said and placate her with other things; he imagined he could lead the conversation well enough. The phone reminded him he needed to hang up with the busy signal; he switched it off, then decided to go have a chat with Jerry.


	14. Danger

Chapter 14

Danger

Esgalmir spent the day at home, alternately prowling the Net and trying to figure out how to get to Mark Lewis. He did send one e-mail to Malfinien, offering his unofficial assistance, but did not really expect a reply. He wanted to contact the man himself; what if Malfinien or some other Elf met him and got the information about the Road, then left him, Esgalmir, completely out of the loop? He'd be trapped here. They probably wouldn't do that, he knew he was over-reacting, but such a vastly important matter must not be left to 'what they will probably do.'

Sunday night passed the same way, and Monday began another week in the endless continuum. Except that today something occurred that, once again, would shake the entire Elven world.

It happened around midday, although Esgalmir didn't find out about it until later. He had flipped on the television for the news; if anything big enough to matter to him happened, he'd know about it here. The only moderately accident-connected story was local, though: a crashed bus, somewhere in Charlotte. One survivor. He allowed himself a moment's sadness over this, but really, humans died so quickly, Esgalmir was used to them passing. And yet-- the few years they had been cheated of meant so much more to them, they had such short lives already.

That evening he gave Malfinien a call, hoping to follow up on the e-mail. However, when she picked up the phone, he knew something was wrong-- she didn't answer with her usual chipper 'Hi, this Liz!' Instead, "Yes?"

"Malfinien?"

"Esgalmir? Oh, Esgalmir-" he heard her breath catch "- it's Lothwen. She was in that bus, the one that crashed. I was about to call you."

He reeled back from the phone, again. "Lothwen's dead?"

"No. She was the survivor."

"Oh-"

"Indeed," she replied grimly. "An Elf has finally found her way into a human hospital. And what happens now?"

Well, several things. For one, swear-- he did so. For another, get out of Charlotte, out of North Carolina, and if possible, out of America. Or even out of this world-- "This makes the Straight Road all the more important," he said finally.

"Exactly. I know you're Unfit and all, but I think that was an over-reaction and I want you to help me anyway. This incident has pushed everyone who was undecided firmly to Firlaith's side, and I think they're all going to get out of here together, as soon as possible."

"Do you think we shouldn't?"

"What do you think we should do about Lothwen?" she answered, ignoring his question.

"What can we do?"

"Break her out." Esgalmir gaped slightly.

"She's not in a prison!"

"If she isn't yet, " Malfinien snapped back, "she will be soon, for all practical purposes. Esgalmir, we've lived among humans for long enough. What do you think they'll do when they find out she's not human? They treat one another as animals when they look different or speak different languages, and now they have someone who isn't even part of their species!" Esgalmir did not try to refute the irrefutable. Instead, he sighed.

"All right. How do you plan to do this?"

"I'm not entirely sure, but we can wing it once we know what hospital she's in."

"Will the humans know who she is? They won't have a DNA sample or doctor's records, remember. We might have a big problem finding her room."

"We can wing it," Malfinien repeated steadfastly.

"All right. When do we leave?"

"Right now, when else?" Esgalmir gaped again and did not respond. "Esgalmir?"

"All right, all right, I'm coming."

"Meet me at the entrance to St. Patrick's, that's where I heard they usually take accident victims."

"All right. Be there in 45 minutes."

"Why so long? Oh, right-- you take the bus. Tell you what, I'll pick you up."

"See you out front then?" He took the *click* as a yes, sighed again, and hung up the phone. Now who was over-reacting?

He cleaned up his apartment a little more than usual tonight. Some sixth sense gave him the feeling he might not come back for a few days, and he planned accordingly, then headed down to the street to wait for Malfinien.

The car jerked violently to a stop right next to him, and he had to jump back to avoid the door that flew open. {Get in,} she barked; he obeyed meekly, then before he could shut the door she took off again.

{Is this really necessary, Malfinien?} he complained as a bump in the road sent his head into the ceiling. She nodded tersely.

{We can waste no more time-- I wouldn't put anything past humans. You haven't been working in a college.} She gave a harsh laugh. {Believe me, Esgalmir, if you have such a strong desire for the Road, just be glad you didn't become a teacher. You'd have committed suicide long ago.} Esgalmir said nothing, just buckled his seat belt securely.

A few minutes later Malfinien whipped into the parking lot outside the hospital. After racing up and down the rows, narrowly avoiding an old lady with a walker, and having the space she'd spotted taken by an opportunistic punk in a sports car, she muttered something under her breath and drove back onto the road.

{Where are you going to park?}

{Right here,} she responded, stopping the car on the curb just beyond the fire lane.

{It says staff only,} Esgalmir pointed out.

{This is more important than a parking ticket,} she answered, jumping out. Esgalmir followed more slowly; she waited for him to come up beside her, then caught his arm.

{Now remember. Lothwen is probably in a pretty bad condition, but we cannot risk her being taken somewhere else. If she's survived the crash, she should already be on the mend; we'll need to be careful with her, of course, but we'll need to take her anyway. So don't waver when you see what she's like.}

Esgalmir nodded. {I have seen accidents before, Malfinien. And war. I know what Elves can take.}

{Very well. Let's go in.}


	15. Grounded

Chapter 15

Grounded

Grounded. Not a word familiar to homeschoolers.

Sarah hadn't had a clue what it meant when Father had pronounced the sentence. Mother, however, had explained it the next day: she would be doing nothing but school and housework for the next week (Sunday excluded). As she couldn't appeal, Sarah decided to be stoic and look on the bright side-- she'd get a lot of schoolwork done, maybe even get ahead.

So Monday morning found Sarah stretched out on her bed, starting on what looked to be a very difficult math problem. Sam tiptoed past outside.

Sarah glared at the open door, then gave up and laughed. Now that Sam _knew_ she was in trouble, he would probably ignore her presence until next week, thinking that would help. Sweet, silly Sam. She turned back to the problem.

"Sarah? Come up, it's time for breakfast." Sarah slammed the math book shut with fervor and leapt from the bed.

"Coming!"

When she reached the table Sam had already finished his first bowl of cereal and started in on a second. Sure enough, he studiously ignored her presence, except when she asked him for the milk.

"So, Sarah, how's it going?" asked Mother.

Sarah shrugged in response. "I started with Saxon."

"Good. You're a little bit behind in Saxon, remember. Juice?"

"Yes, thanks. Yes ma'am, I know I'm behind-- but I'll be able to catch up this week."

"Mmm, yes." Mother seemed ready to say something else, but decided not to and instead changed the subject. "You two want to go to Books-A-Million this evening?" Sarah immediately began feeling sorry for herself, but perked up when Mother added, "I'll give you a break, Sarah, _if_ you keep to your work all day otherwise _and_ you agree to come to the next place we'll be going."

"Where's that?" piped up Sam. Then, suspiciously, "Are you trying to bribe us?"

Mother smiled, somewhat sadly. "I guess I am, in a way. Actually, Sarah, it's about the church secretary."

"Who?"

"The secretary, Sam. She takes care of- took care of the bulletins for Sunday mornings, the prayer sheet for Wednesday nights, and many other things besides," their mother answered.

"I didn't even know we _had_ a secretary, I thought one of the deacons did it."

"Yes, well, we do, or we did. She didn't interact very much; strictly business. I met her once, and she seemed nice enough: just very shy. Anyway, she was in a car accident this afternoon, and the pastor is going to go by and see her. He mentioned to your father that it would be good if all the elders did, too, and that includes their families, or at least their wives. So I think we should stop by. Just because she may not be an actual member of the church doesn't mean we shouldn't visit."

"Sure," answered Sarah, nodding. "You don't need to bribe us to do a nice thing." Mother raised an eyebrow and chuckled.

"I notice Sam is not being so generous," she teased, turning to him.

Sam stood silent, an expression of solemn thought upon his face. Then, "Yes, I think it's a good idea," he pronounced. Mother grinned, and Sarah rolled her eyes.

"Well, I'm glad we got your permission, Your Honor."

"All right, all right, finish your breakfast, you two. And Sam, remember to start by practicing your piano-- lessons are this afternoon, and if you give a repeat of last week..." She let the threat dangle, and Sam nodded obediently.

--

That afternoon, piano lessons and Books-A-Million behind, it was time to pay up and go see the secretary.

"What's her name, Mommy?" asked Sam, as they drove down the road.

"Hmm," she replied, thinking. "I'm not sure, but I believe her last name was Harker. I have is the room number, but we can get her name from the hospital."

"What's her first name?"

"I don't know, but I don't think it will matter anyway. She's in a bad enough condition that it's doubtful she'll be able to receive visitors personally, and certainly won't be able to talk."

"Then why are we going?" exclaimed Sarah, popping her head up from the back seat. "If she can't receive visitors?"

"Because it's a good thing to do."

"It seems kinda like pearls before swine," Sarah objected. "I mean, she won't even know we're there, much less be encouraged!"

"Well, you agreed to go, so we're going," Mother replied firmly. "Just wait, and you'll see. We won't waste our visit."

Indeed not. On their way in, they passed none other than Al-- or Legolas, as Sarah still preferred to call him (Al did SO not fit him!). She goggled, then ducked behind Mother as he passed; he was speed-walking while conversing in low, hurried tones with another one of the clique, a woman complete with the incredible looks and hat. Sarah tried to hear what they were saying without leaning out to listen, but failed entirely: they were so indistinct they sounded like gibberish.

Oh, she wanted to follow him, talk to him again-- but he was walking far too fast, and Mother would be sure to notice if she tried to linger-

"Sarah!" That sharp tone could only mean one thing. Sarah sighed and caught up with Mother and Sam, leaving Legolas and the woman to disappear into the night. "Don't go staring at handsome young men. Anyone would think you hadn't had any bad experiences with strangers." Sam's eyes got big, and Sarah guessed he'd only just remembered.

"Yes ma'am," Sarah mumbled. "Sorry."

Mother regarded her for a long moment, then finally sighed. "Well, he was quite handsome."

"Mommy!" exclaimed Sam, giggling.

"What?"

"Daddy!" he answered, then put a hand over his mouth to try to stop the laughter.

"All I did was state a fact. There is nothing Daddy has to do with that young man being handsome. And if you think just because I'm married means I've turned blind, you've got another think coming, young man. I can see YOU quite well."

Sarah followed them, Sam still trying to stop laughing, and wished desperately they had been coming _out_ and not going _in_ when Legolas had passed. She pulled herself back to the real world when Mother reached the front desk.

"Hello, we've come to call on the patient in room 115."

The receptionist tapped a few languid fingers on the keyboard, peered at the monitor, then replied, "Oh, Ms. Harper. Yeah, she's not in very good condition, so you probably can't see her." She returned to whatever she had been doing, then looked up to find Mother still there. "Oh, you wanna try to see her anyway?"

"Yes," Mother answered testily. "That is why we are here, you know."

"Well, I'll check." The receptionist began poking feebly through the mess on her desk for her phone. After a minute of this, Mother pursed her lips, reached over the counter and stabbed the 'Page' button on the base; an alarm went off from a drawer, and the receptionist pulled it out without a 'thanks.'

Beep- beep- beep- beep. "Hello? Yeah, this is Meredith. Yeah, there's this lady who wants to see Ms. Harper, in- Yeah, that one, in Room 115. I told her- Oh, OK. Yeah. OK. Thanks." She switched off the phone and turned back to Mother. "So, Ms. Harper has been moved. She's not there anymore."

Mother raised an eyebrow. "And where has she been moved to?"

The receptionist shrugged. "I don't know. Go see, there's probably some people in her room that can help you. That way." She waved a hand vaguely behind her, which was solid wall.

"Left or right?"

"Le- right." Mother sighed and walked right until she had read two of the room numbers. Finding them descending from 100, she spun around and headed to the left. "Oops," put in the receptionist, in a last gasp of politeness. Sarah followed, grabbing Sam on the way-- he'd gone into daydream land again.

"My goodness, what kind of hiring personnel do they have here?" Mother was snarling, more to herself than to her children. "I could get better service from a dog. At least a dog would know its way around..."

Sarah snickered. In the room, they predictably found no-one but the laundry lady, who couldn't tell them anything. Mother growled a mild imprecation against the receptionist and headed out, down the hall.

Half an hour later they were on the fourth floor, and Mother had moved to not-so-mild imprecations, when they finally tracked down someone who gave them a more definite answer. "Ms. Harper has been moved out of this hospital, but by another hospital's personnel. They couldn't tell us where exactly they were moving her to, since they didn't know yet, but she was in a worse state than we had thought-- they had to move her very quickly. If she's in too bad a condition for St. Patrick's to handle, you might try at the Charlotte Regional."

"Thank you, sir. Come along, then." On the elevator, heading back to ground floor, Sam dared to pose the question.

"Will we go to Charlotte Regional tonight?"

Mother sighed. "No, we won't. Not tonight. I'll call Pastor Maples, and he can find his way around the hospitals far better than us. He'll track her down."

The elevator doors dinged open, and they exited to find:

"Daddy!" "Dad!"

"Hey, Sarah! Sam!" Father had just come in and grinned widely. "Fancy meeting you here!"

"Mommy planned it, didn't she?" Sam replied, grinning back.

"She did indeed," she answered, smiling. "We were going to go get something to eat. You were supposed to get here a little earlier, weren't you?"

"Well," Father replied, the grin rapidly thinning, "work. I'll tell you about it in the car. But first, you tell me about Ms. Harper. How is she?" Mother's eyes flashed. "Ah..."

"Yes. 'Ah.'" She launched into the story of their search, which lasted all the way back to the car. Father had parked right next to them.

"All right, who's riding with me?" Both Sarah and Sam volunteered happily, and Mother made the obligatory complaint. Sam immediately switched and joined her, leaving Sarah to ride with Father. Before they entered the vehicles, though, they needed to decide something.

"Oh, where are we going, Debbie?"

"Well, Fuddruckers is nearby..." Sam made a noise of disgust, and Sarah shushed him. "All right, not Fuddruckers, then."

Sarah groaned. "Just because he whines about it-"

"Sam's a quarter of the family," Mother answered firmly.

"It's three to one," Sarah responded just as firmly. "He _always_ gets to dictate where we go!"

"Well, Sarah, where do you want to go?" asked Father. "Or are you just reacting against him because you don't like him expressing his opinion?" Sarah mumbled something, and a few suggestions later, they finally decided. Everyone was equally disappointed with the choice, but at least it was equal.

Sarah drifted out of the conversation at the dinner table. She was thinking about Legolas now, although she knew it would only get her in trouble if she tried to meet him again; she could analyze the feelings she had, she knew they were nothing but a silly crush, but she could not overcome them. She realized she didn't really want to; they were very interesting, and she thought Legolas was probably very nice, if only she could get to know him. She spent the remainder of the night inventing wild plans to get another meeting with him...


	16. On the Trail of Lothwen

Chapter 16

On the Trail of Lothwen

{So what do we do now, Malfinien?}

{We call Balimar,} she snapped back. {This is a real catastrophe. And I must say, Firlaith has shown himself to be far more Unfit than you ever were or appeared. Running out like that...} Malfinien trailed off into muttered complaints, and Esgalmir looked back out the car window.

They reached her house and whipped into the driveway. Malfinien crushed the brake pedal down, threw the door open, and leapt from the car in one smooth motion. Esgalmir shook his head and slipped out after her.

She had already disappeared into the depths of her house by the time he entered; her haste had scorned to switch on the lights, and he had to wait a moment for his eyes to fully adjust.

{Malfinien?}

{Yes?} He followed the voice to find her punching numbers into her phone.

{I was thinking, I could take your car over to her place, check out the situation there.}

She paused in the button-punching. {...why?}

{Well, if this is going to get such a violent reaction from the humans, they'll probably check her house. They'll do it now that they know she's not human; we would need to go there whether we had gotten her out or not.}

{Good point. Yes, very true... all right, give me a second and we'll go there together.} She stabbed in the last number and put the phone to her ear. Almost immediately, she began tapping her foot in impatience, and Esgalmir smiled slightly. Then she stiffened and spoke.

"Oui? Allo? Oui, Balimar, c'est Malfinien. Ecoutez, je suis désolée de vous téléphoner si tôt, mais une chose très grave est passée..."

Esgalmir waited at the front door; his mind took the inaction to begin running farther and farther into the possible outcomes-- bad and worse. By the time Malfinien finished the danger had finally sunk in, and he was as worried as she.

{To Lothwen's, then?}

{Immediately.}

Esgalmir strode out to the car as Malfinien locked up, then asked her, {What did he say?} Malfinien didn't answer until they were safely on their way.

{He said to get out while we still can.} Esgalmir shook his head sadly.

{And what of Lothwen?}

{Apparently, she was to be left to the tender mercies of human researchers. What do you plan to do at her house, exactly?}

{Find anything that could possibly point to any of us and remove it. Phone numbers, addresses above all, e-mails, anything. Do you know what she had?}

{Only the same things you do-- contact information for everyone in the state.}

{Any particularly Elvish things that could clue others in to us?}

Malfinien furrowed her brow. {Lothwen always wore a brooch. It might give them a clue, I suppose, to go on; but I don't think it would be recognizably non-human. And don't forget aboutThe Lord of the Rings-- it should be easy to pass any 'Elven' artifacts off as movie merchandise.

{She did have an old book of songs and tales. She is the last of her house, and it holds many of their stories. I don't know where to find it, but that would be something to get-- not so much as denying evidence as not losing something that valuable.}

Esgalmir nodded, then stiffened as another thought struck him. {What if they're ahead of us, or arrive while we're there? Are you armed?}

For answer Malfinien threw open the glove compartment.

{What is it?} he asked, baffled.

{Tazer,} she replied. {Shocks the target, temporarily incapacitation. Works quite well, although only at close range. What are you doing?}

Esgalmir was rooting around in the depths of the compartment. {Don't you have any more lethal weapons? With longer range?}

{A pistol, yes. Wrong side.} He switched over and found it.

{Well, that's good to know.}

{Are you armed?} He smiled a thin smile, and a half-second later a silver dagger balanced in his hand.

{Very nice,} she commented after an appraising glance. {Is that all?} He shrugged and, with another swift move, sheathed the dagger back in his boot.

{I carry an assortment of far less elegant knives-- all non-metallic so they can hide from detectors. Strictly for throwing.} He let that sink in.

{So... your main knife isn't detected?} He grinned smugly.

{Indeed it is not.}

{That would make it-- mithril?} she demanded. {Come on, Esgalmir.}

{It is!} he protested. {Real Dwarven make!}

{Oh, this story sounds interesting. But not now-- we're here. Out.} Once again Malfinien was almost to the door of the house by the time Esgalmir exited the car. Lothwen's house sat at the very back of a quiet circle. He made his way up the brick pathway to Malfinien, who was standing impatiently by the door.

{We are on a very tight schedule here,} she snapped at him. {Get the door open, please.}

Why? He looked past the locked door to the window. {Let's go in through there.}

{Hello? Burglar alarms?}

For answer Esgalmir shoved the window up and smirked at Malfinien. {She left it unlatched.}

{That doesn't answer my question-} But Esgalmir had already disappeared into the house. 

Through the window, and drat! it opened right behind a lamp. Esgalmir had an ungraceful moment rescuing the lamp, untangling himself from the drapes, and somehow avoiding tripping in the wires, but he managed it. A moment later, sans-lamp, he looked around and found the light switch; he flipped it, then closed and latched the window and walked to the front door.

He took a half-second to formulate his expression and then opened the door. Without a hint of emotion he gave Malfinien a formal Elven bow. {Enter, lady fair.}

Malfinien strode past him, rolling her eyes. {Esgalmir, do you still not understand? We are supposed to be working fast. Not fooling around.} Not interested in hearing her finish, he headed into the next room over and flipped on the light to illuminate the kitchen. Where was the computer?

He slipped into the next room-- some kind of parlor-- and the next-- a sort of breakfast room. Big windows, nice window seat, pretty little table. The door leading from it opened into her bedroom, which included the computer.

{Got it,} he called.

{Got what? Precision would be nice.}

{The computer. Find the phone numbers-}

{-and addresses, yes, of course.} He contemplated the computer for a moment. He could switch it on, go in to her address list, and delete every Elven address; but that would take time. And be reversible, unless she happened to have one of the shredder programs.

Alternately, he could use a foolproof technique and simply take the computer from the house. That would definitely point any investigators worth a penny to the existence of friends, though. So... either take the whole computer or none.

He frowned. What about destroying it? Pointless-- bad for Lothwen if she survived, and no better as far as hiding their involvement. No, he'd just take the whole thing.

A few minutes later found Esgalmir balancing an entire computer system on the way to Malfinien's car. He arranged it carefully in her back seat-- not enough time to load it into the trunk-- and went back in. Malfinien met him at the door to the kitchen.

{I've gotten the addresses and phone numbers. What about the computer?}

{In the car. I just need to go back and do what I can to hide the fact that she had a computer.}

{All right. Next, back to the hospital.}

Esgalmir finished disguising the room in a few minutes, then headed to the front door. Just as he switched off the light, he saw the lights of a car approaching from around a corner, back down the road. At this hour, who would be driving around? Besides them, of course. There was only one explanation.

{Oh-} He locked and slammed the door, then ran to the car. Malfinien had seen the light too. {Go! Go!} She didn't need to be told once, much less twice-- the moment his foot was safely off the ground she sent the car hurtling forward, just into a nearby driveway. {Down.}

They dropped simultaneously to the floor of the car. The headlights came into view of the windows, lighting them up; they approached, then stopped moving. After a moment a door opened and they heard the regular tread of feet, followed by the sound of another door and another pair of feet. The two pairs of feet walked over the asphalt and onto the brick, then paused at the door. After a quiet moment, Esgalmir could just hear the sound of lock-picking, official-style. This lasted about a minute, then the door opened, the feet entered, and the door closed.

{Take a look?} whispered Malfinien.

{Sure.} Esgalmir eased the door open, slithered out onto the grass, then pushed it to. He crept on hands and knees to the end of the car and peered around, thereby avoiding the full headlight glare. It was a police car, completely standard. That meant it probably carried only two people; and they were both inside the house.

Strange that the police should be involved. Then again, who would be sent on a mission like this? They had probably been told Lothwen-- or Ms. Harper, as she went by-- was a member of some kind of ring, and probably had addresses and etc. for other members.

Esgalmir took the chance of rising into a crouch. The lights in the house were on again, and as he watched, a shadow moved across the drape to meet another shadow.

{Both accounted for,} he muttered, then returned to the car. {They're both in the house, and they're policemen. I think we should leave now.} Malfinien, however, was looking clever. {Umm... what are you contemplating?}

{Putting them out of action for the night. Or at least their car. They'd probably hear us leaving if we just drove off-- that's just what we don't need, to confirm others like Lothwen.}

{I'm listening...} Malfinien grinned and outlined her plan. Esgalmir gave a resigned shrug and left the car again.

He slipped over to the police car and tested the passenger door. Locked, as he'd suspected. He shrugged and reached into a boot, pulling out one of his thinner knives. Time to do some real lock-picking.

20 seconds later the door clicked and opened it cautiously. Inside, the first thing that caught his eye was the shotgun; a cursory glance showed it to be unloaded. Truly not very worried, were they? He precisely and permanently disabled the radio, then exited. They probably carried handheld radios, but no harm in trying.

He re-locked the door and turned to the next step-- slashing the tires. Or more precisely, puncturing them, one after another, with his mithril blade. Satisfied, he returned to Malfinien's car, job well done.

Almost. At that moment the front door opened, and Esgalmir dropped motionless to the ground. A young policewoman stepped out and up the brick path; Esgalmir waited, perhaps he wouldn't have to do anything.

But 10 feet from the car she froze; she must have seen the tires. Then she turned casually and walked quickly back to the house; the moment she entered she pulled her pistol and radio.

"Sir, tires are slashed. We've got trouble." Esgalmir strained for the answer, but even Elvish hearing could not quite overcome the quietness of the other's response; whatever it was, the woman replaced the handheld and closed the door.

Esgalmir breathed out and got immediately into the car. {Let's go now; she's probably going to come around from behind the house.} Malfinien nodded and started the car.

At that, the front door slammed open. A muttered curse: the woman was standing there, pistol in hand.

The two Elves dropped again, Malfinien turning the key back as she went down. Esgalmir slipped out-- for the third time, this was getting a little annoying-- and slithered silently under the car, careful not to expose any part of himself on the other side.

The woman approached slowly, pistol pointing at the driver's side window; he could see her confusion and uncertainty, and smiled grimly. That would make this easier. He gathered himself and waited.

The moment her left foot came within range he shot out one long arm and snatched her foot out from under her. She gave an unprofessional squawk and crashed down backwards, but kept a hold on her pistol.

Esgalmir shot out from under the car, dagger in hand; he threw it in a blur of silver and gold, and neatly knocked the gun from her hand. She scrambled for it, but not a moment later Esgalmir had her in an inescapable headlock. She dropped, he went with her; she struck out, trying to incapacitate him, but with his other arm he easily overpowered her. She stopped struggling-- presumably she knew a hopeless situation when in one.

"You know who we is, don't you?" he rasped, changing his voice to resemble a crack user.

"Nons," she gasped. Esgalmir frowned.

"What you talkin' about, woman?"

"Non-humans-- aliens-- I-" OK, this was Not Good. He shifted his grip slightly and increased the pressure; a moment later she passed out. He released her so she could breathe again, then went to retrieve the pistol and his knife.

He swore softly as he pulled it out of the ground; someone was coming around from behind the house, trying to be quiet. He shook his head at Malfinien when she gestured madly for him to get in the car; she groaned silently and disappeared, presumably back to the floor. Esgalmir slipped over to the bushes lining Lothwen's house, pressing himself into the shadows; a few seconds later the other, this time a policeman, came creeping through the dark. He also had his pistol out, but held it pointing straight up next to his head; he looked like he was acting in some police show. That didn't keep him from being pretty stealthy, though, for a human; Esgalmir gave him credit for that. Then threw his dagger into the back of his head.

He had meant to stun, not kill-- the pommel smacked the policeman's head with a soft thunk, and he stumbled to the ground with a groan. Esgalmir followed swiftly, snatching the pistol before the policeman came to himself again, then sent him more firmly into dreamland with another sharp rap on the head. {And now to take you with us,} he muttered to the woman; he hefted her to one shoulder and walked to the car.

{And where do you want to put her?} Malfinien asked calmly, as if neutralizing police officers and breaking into houses had already become routine.

{Hmm... she probably wouldn't appreciate the trunk, so let me move the computer there and I'll put her in the back seat. Don't worry, I will of course tie her up.} Malfinien started the car back up and waited for him to finish the rearrangement.

{And now for you,} he said finally, turning cheerfully to the unconscious policeman on the ground. He relieved him of his handheld, toted him back into the house, and locked it carefully behind him.

{And now we leave,} he finished, closing the car door.

{It is to be hoped.} Malfinien cruised out of the circle and back to the main street. {Where to now?}

{I would say to the hospital, to try and look up where Lothwen might have been moved to, but we can just ask her.} He jerked a thumb into the back seat.

{Just in time, I see,} muttered Malfinien. Esgalmir twisted and looked behind them.

{Ah, more of our friends. The man must have called for backup.}

{Not our concern. Now, did I hear her correctly? We are being searched as non-humans?}

{Right,} he answered grimly. {That was an amazingly quick response. Too quick.}

{What do you mean?}

{The humans haven't even had a full day, yet they've already got Lothwen moved to some secure area, they've sent police to search her house, and they've gotten special forces in for non-humans. I very much doubt this woman works here normally-- they're not going to have a special unit in every city.}

{Then what do you attribute their speed to? By the way, we still don't know where we're going.}

{I'm not sure about either, but they're related. Malfinien, has anyone seen through your disguise? Seen your ears, or anything like that?}

{No-- why?} He launched into the story of meeting Sarah.

{So, she's the only one I can think of who might be responsible for this. If so, she knows where I live and where you live. We can't go back.}

{A 13-year-old human girl? I doubt she's behind it, Esgalmir. I'm stopping here.}

He looked at the Wal-Mart, way across the parking lot. {All right, it's abandoned enough. Now, as to Sarah-- if you don't think she's responsible, who do you think is?}

{I think this is within the limits of human response. A little stretched, perhaps, but believable. What I find totally unbelievable is that some girl like that would be the agent of turning us in. But-- if she mentioned the ears, and her father moves in the right circles, it could have been enough to provoke an investigation. Particularly if they find out your little 'disease' is bogus. I could see that; again, though, a stretch of the imagination.}

{I think we need to get this girl. She could very well cause a great deal of trouble if she is indeed the driving force behind the investigation.}

{Well, where does she live?} Esgalmir gave a helpless shrug.

{I don't know, she always sought me out. Wait--} He cast his memory back to that day on the bus. The book she was writing in, one of those black-and-white binders, with something written on the front... he concentrated and yes, her name and address had been there. {Sarah McHean, 245 Beckinsdale Drive, Charlotte,} he recited.

{Very good,} Malfinien said in surprise. {Where'd you dredge that up from?}

{Never mind, let's go.} She nodded in resignation and drove back out of the parking lot. Esgalmir waited, then decided to move to the back seat to see if their policewoman had begun reviving yet.


	17. Kidnaped

Chapter 17

Kidnaped

Sarah twisted in bed. It was nearly two in the morning, and she still couldn't get to sleep; the late dinner wasn't helping. She decided to do some reading-- if she wasn't going to be able to sleep she wasn't going to completely waste her time. When she switched on the light, she wondered momentarily if she should do schoolwork instead, since she was 'grounded'; but as usual, nobler instincts gave way to self-serving logic and she picked up her book instead.

War and Peace. One of those books everyone has to read at some time in their lives. Sarah had made up her mind to read at least one of the 'musts' every year; she had only barely made it last year, though, through Moby Dick, and if she didn't pick up her pace with W & P she'd only be halfway come December. She began reading, every now and then flipping to the back of the book for assistance: a sheet of notebook paper taped there was steadily filling up with a list of all the characters and their multiplicity of names. Hmmm...

The window bumped. She felt a delicious lurch of fear, the kind that only comes when you are tired and up far later than you have any excuse to be; she wriggled down into the covers and continued reading. But it thumped again. Odd.

She wondered if her cat was trying to get admittance. He usually cried, true, but it was possible. She clambered out of bed and shuffled over to the window-- no Lemon there.

Instead, something bumped the window again, right in front of her. She gave a muffled squeak and skipped back-- what was this? Maybe she should just leave the room.

The window gave a final metallic tink and the top half slid down, stopping just short of slamming into the window frame. She backed up to the door, wishing the drapes over the window would magically swing back so she could see what was happening without going to it. But as she waited, and nothing happened, she wondered if she was over-reacting to her messed-up old window goofing up again. What she needed to do was close it, go back to bed and go to sleep.

Yet she still hung back, very much hesitant about approaching the window. Maybe it would be best to get Father; if the window was broken she'd need him anyway, and if someone was trying to come in he'd deal with them.

She turned from the window and grabbed the doorknob. Even as she began opening the door, she felt eyes on her back and spun.

Legolas stood there, arms folded across his chest, regarding her with a totally blank expression. Wha... She drew a breath to scream, but with inhuman speed his hand darted over her mouth and silenced her. "Shh, Sarah, we must leave." She considered screaming again, running, kicking him, anything but...

...faint. Which, naturally, was exactly what she did.

--

When Sarah awoke, she knew instantly she was in a car-- and a rather furiously driven car at that. She cracked one eye open to see Legolas studying her, and snapped the eye back shut. Where were they going, what would he do to her, was she going to die...

What was that? Legolas-- Al, she reminded herself-- was saying something, but it wasn't in English. It was a soft, melodic sound, and somehow she felt calmed by it. His voice, just like on the bus, was like molten silver, and she dared to open her eyes again.

Al was sitting in the front seat, and when she shifted up a little more she saw he was speaking to the driver. He finished whatever he was saying, and the driver responded in kind. Sarah pulled her eyes off Al with some difficulty and looked around the rest of the car.

'Old' was the first word that came to mind. Al's seat belt looked about to fray in two, and one of the ceiling bulbs was missing. The once-nice leather seats were in equally poor condition: they felt dry and crackled, and foam was pooching up from the splits. And on the other end of the seat--

Sarah gasped. She wasn't along in the back seat: there was a figure sitting there. Although 'sitting' was perhaps too active a word when the mouth was duct-taped, the hands were behind the back-- surely tied there-- and the eyes were shut in unconsciousness.

She reached out a tentative hand and touched the figure's knee. "Don't bother with her," the woman in the driver's seat advised. Sarah jerked guiltily.

"I was only-"

"She just means there's nothing you can do," Al informed her, then rattled off a reproachful monologue to the driver. Sarah settled back and began reviewing the events of the night-- well, morning now... but she couldn't help casting apprehensive looks over at the other occupant of the seat.

She realized with a bit of a start that the figure was a woman and, more frighteningly, a police officer. Al and his-- his accomplice-- had abducted a police officer! Not to mention her, too. She tried to remember what the wisest thing to do in a situation like this was; every book she had ever read, every movie she had seen, agreed that she needed to cooperate as long as possible.

Well, there was one thing she could do that wouldn't get her in any trouble with her captors.

"Dear God," she whispered, barely moving her lips, "I pray that You would continue to watch over me, that You would give me strength and wisdom to deal with this situation-- that You would lead me to rely more fully on You, and wait for Your time and Your place to deliver me. I pray that You would help my family: protect them, give them wisdom and strength to deal with my disappearance, and-"

"What are you doing?" Al asked curiously. Sarah calmly opened her eyes, although she was a bit surprised Al had heard her.

"Praying. There's nothing wrong with that, is there?"

"Praying?" Al seemed oddly interested. "You pray?"

"Of course," Sarah answered, a little confused. "I'm a Christian. I pray."

Sarah realized she could put a name to the curiosity on Al's face: academic. He leaned forward eagerly. "Who do you pray to? I did not know there were any-" He caught himself and looked flustered. "That is to say..." He coughed and repeated, "Who do you pray to?"

She blinked, confused, then answered, "God."

"Ah... of course..." He appeared somehow disappointed. "The God of the Bible, no?"

"That's right." Now it was Sarah's turn to be curious; there was something about Al that just put you at ease. "Um... where are you from?"

A small smile crossed his face-- a smile like nothing Sarah had ever seen: sad, fleeting, filled with memory she had never guessed at. Then it was gone and he shook his head. "Europe."

She cocked her head. "I knew Europe was-- no offense-- somewhat apostate, but how do you not know about Christianity? It's only the largest religion in the world; well, if you count Roman Catholics..."

"I haven't been terrible connected to the world," Al answered. He was back to his previous utter self control, and he appeared to be finished with the conversation-- he turned away and resumed staring out the window.

"Where are we going?" Sarah blurted out suddenly. To her surprise, the driver was the one to answer.

"We are on our way to Duke University," she announced. Then she looked back at Al and began talking in that other language again, leaving Sarah to ponder her conversation with Al.

Who do you pray to? I did not know there were any-- that is to say... Didn't know there were any whats? Despite herself, Sarah plugged "humans" in for the blank.

Come off it, Sarah. They're not aliens... But then again... Pointed ears. Superhuman agility. Incredible hearing. Amazingly beautiful. What if they **aren't** human? She shivered in sudden understanding.

I am such an idiot! I even gave him the name of one of them-- She stared at Al, at his incredible features. She wanted to just blurt out "You're an Elf!!" but she restrained herself. He was likely to simply deny it if she tried that, and what if he wasn't? No, she needed to trick him into revealing it himself. She thought for several minutes; her experience with Lord of the Rings was limited to the movies a couple times.

Finally, she settled on the best thing she could think of, something he might reply to without thinking. "Did you know Gimli?" she asked, conversationally.

The two figures in front of her stiffened, then Al laughed-- a sad but appreciative laugh. "Very good, Sarah, and you've only known us for a single night." He turned to her. "Yes, we are Elves. I take it you are familiar with Tolkien?"

"Not really," Sarah answered breathlessly. It was true! He wasn't human! "Well, I've seen the movies, but I never read the books, but you were just too beautiful and too agile and-- and hey, what's your real name?" Al squirmed. "Oh, I'm sorry," Sarah gasped. "I've never read the books, like I said, and I don't know what's rude and isn't, and I've just broken a taboo haven't I? Oh-"

"Calm down, Sarah," said the driver, cocking an eyebrow at her. Sarah snapped her mouth shut on a thousand more questions. "Better. Now listen; we Elves are not like you humans, we don't have silly taboos and we don't get offended by mere questions. We have, however, been left to our own devices for nearly 10,000 of your years and being seen for what we are is a bit of an adjustment. If you paused for a moment and though you would have realized that."

"Sorry," Sarah said quietly, and she meant it. "I'm not thinking of you, I mean I'm not trying to think of you, as creatures or anything-"

"I should hope not," Al interrupted, amused.

"Shh, she's talking," the driver admonished him. "I understand, Sarah... unfortunately, you're likely in the minority in your attitude. Which is why we have no wish for the entire world to know of our existence." Sarah swallowed audibly.

"So you're going to kill me?"

"Goodness, you just said you weren't going to think of us as animals! Of course we aren't going to kill you." Sarah glanced at the unconscious police officer.

"We aren't going to kill her, either," Al put in helpfully. "In fact, we're currently working on an escape plan."

"Escape from who?" Sarah asked, confused. "Oh! Are there MORE of you? Are some of you captured?" She was leaning all the way into the front seat by now.

Al held up three fingers for her questions. "Yes, there are more of us-- nearly a thousand spread across the globe." He cocked the middle finger down. "One of us is, indeed, captured." A bitter look crossed his face, and he cocked down the third finger. "For your first question: we intend escape, not from any one, but from this WORLD." He lowered his index finger and looked into Sarah's eyes. "We don't belong here, Sarah, and now we're going to leave."

"If we can," the driver added grimly.

"Obviously. Now, you were asking for names; it's hardly taboo, as Malfinien said, it's just a bit of a shock."

"Malfy-who?"

The driver twitched slightly and muttered something in her language-- Elvish, Sarah supposed. "Listen, we don't have taboos, but we're not interested in having our language OR our names mangled, much as you wouldn't like it if someone mispronounced your name. Mal-fi-nee-en."

"Mal-fi-nen," Sarah repeated, then gulped. "Sorry, I'm not good at pronunciations-"

"Try again," Malfinien said, eyeing her. Sarah tried until she got it right. "Thank you. Now for you, Esgalmir."

"Esgalmir?" Sarah asked, understanding dawning. "That's why you said your name was Al!"

"Correct," he said, pleased. "And you said it right the first time; thank you."

"Only too glad to please you," Sarah replied, beaming. Esgalmir stiffened, and she shrank back. "Did I say some-"

"No," he replied tersely. From nowhere a dagger had sprouted in his hand, a wicked-looking tribladed spike that almost seemed to glow with an unearthly light. He was staring at the figure next to Sarah-- the policewoman she had almost forgotten.


	18. Escape?

Chapter 18

Escape...?

The woman's eyelids quivered momentarily, then cracked open just a hair-- if Esgalmir hadn't had Elvish hearing he would never have guessed she was awake. Her training was good, he had to admit; she hadn't just snapped her eyes open and looked all around. But her breathing gave her away.

"Good evening," he said pleasantly. "You may open your eyes."

She complied and glared at him. "They mean you no harm," Sarah said with a smile.

-(I'm not so sure,)- Malfinien muttered. Esgalmir shot her a warning glance before turning back to their prisoner.

"Would you like to speak?" A nod. "I will only remove the tape if you promise to be civil." Another nod, this time impatient. Esgalmir, with a feeling of inexplicable foreboding, reached out and pulled the tape off her face.

"Where the ----are we?" were the first words out of her mouth. Sarah practically fell out of her seat, and Esgalmir sighed, then slapped the tape back on.

"Does that word fall within your definition of civil?" he inquired. She just glared at him. "I guess it does. Well, while you're with us, you'll observe OUR definition of civil:

"No more of that kind of language.

"No demands, and no threats. That means you won't be brokering any deals.

"Clear enough for you?"

She nodded furiously. -(For your sake, I'm glad looks can't kill,)- Malfinien commented in amusement.

-(Fortunately not.)- Esgalmir plucked the tape off for the second time. "Better?"

"No, but-" she stretched her neck and bent her back- "it's all I can expect, correct?"

"Precisely."

"And no escape attempts, either," Malfinien interjected in a warning voice. The policewoman turned her glare on her.

"I make no promises."

"Suit yourself," Esgalmir replied in amusement. "But if you do try, you won't get anywhere."

"We'll see about that," the woman muttered, in a voice obviously intended to be inaudible.

-(I imagine we will,)- Malfinien whispered to Esgalmir. He laughed.

-(Shall we begin-- how do you say? grilling her now?)-

-(I daresay now would be much better than later. We're only an hour from Duke now.)-

-(Refresh my memory, why are we going to Duke?)-

-(Only logical place near enough-- good medical facilities, excellent reputation, and I imagine they wouldn't have much trouble keeping it secret. We just need her to confirm it.)-

"Is there anything _I_ should know?" the woman interrupted sarcastically. Esgalmir looked back at her seething face, then over at Sarah; the girl was looking out the window now, apparently ashamed of her previous outburst.

"Talk to Sarah," Esgalmir advised. "We'll talk to you momentarily." The woman snarled some words Esgalmir chose not to hear and sank back in her seat.

-(So, what should I start with?)-

-(I'll start it off,)- Malfinien answered. She cleared her throat, attracting the attention of the two back seat passengers, then began.

"What's your name?" Esgalmir was somewhat surprised by the way her voice suddenly shifted into a much more authoritative, almost commanding, voice, then remembered she was a teacher.

The policewoman blinked. "Officer Bloom," she replied after a moment.

"What were you doing at that house?"

"Someone set off the burglar alarm."

-(I told you not to go in through the window!)- Malfinien snapped at Esgalmir, but he was staring intently at Officer Bloom's face.

-(She's lying,)- he replied, not looking away. -(Look at her pupils, they expanded when you said that. Or, rather, don't look at her pupils-- keep driving-- but she's definitely not telling the truth.

-(Or not the whole truth, anyway...

"That's not the whole explanation," he continued, switching to English. "Why did you come expecting to find us there? How did you pin me as non-human?"

Bloom was momentarily lost for words. She looked out the window instead for a minute. Finally, she replied. "We were just sent to investigate a potential break-in, and the only reason I said you weren't human was I was trained specially to deal with this precise eventuality-- criminals that aren't human. Coincidence."

"Do you really think they're that gullible?" Sarah asked, incredulous. Then she sank back, looking embarrassed. "'scuse me..."

"She has a point," Malfinien observed dryly. "That explanation would hardly satisfy a 10-year-old.

"How about the truth? Strange idea, I know, but that's the only thing we're going to settle for, so you might as well out with it."

"Very well," Bloom answered, and sighed. "It's true that I'm specially trained for possible encounters with non-humans. It's true that we got a burglar alarm from that house. But we were already on the way to the house, because of a previous event."

"What event?" Malfinien asked intently.

"The discovery of a non-human."

"Oh really?" Esgalmir asked sarcastically. "And under what circumstances was this discovery made?"

"It was the only survivor of an accident, that's all I know," Bloom replied. Esgalmir looked into her eyes and nodded slowly, once.

-(She's telling the truth now.)-

-(Good. Let's hope it stays that way,)- Malfinien grumbled.

"Where is she now?"

"I-- don't know," Bloom answered hesitantly. Esgalmir narrowed his eyes.

-(She's lying again.)-

-(Put your knife to her throat, that often works wonders,)- Malfinien suggested. Esgalmir complied, so quickly that Bloom didn't even have time to blink.

"Where is she now?" he repeated. There was absolutely no change in his voice, but the knife to her throat did the trick.

"The non-human has been transported to Duke University for study," she replied tightly. "Now will you b**please**/b get your knife off my throat?! What if we hit a bump, you idiot? I'd be decapitated!"

"You seem to be under the impression that we would care about that," Malfinien observed, smirking.

-(Don't we?)- Esgalmir sheathed the dagger swiftly and looked in confusion at Malfinien.

She rolled her eyes. -(Of course we do. It's just an intimidation method. Also known as 'lying.')-

-(Ah.)- Esgalmir frowned. -(Lying?)-

"Will you PLEASE have some manners?" Officer Bloom demanded. "We can't understand that... that gibberish!"

"i_I_/i think it sounds pretty," Sarah put in shyly. "Not to interrupt or anything..."

"Well, I didn't say it was ugly," Bloom snapped, but her face softened somewhat. She glanced over at Sarah and sighed, looked about to say something, and then leaned back in her seat.

-(Now if only she'll STAY quiet,)- Esgalmir muttered, this time in a voice so quiet no human could have heard it. Malfinien chuckled.

-(Now, you seemed a bit anxious about lying,)- she whispered.

Esgalmir shrugged. -(Well, I've always avoided it. Whenever possible, at least.)-

-(Mmm. If only we all had the luxury of perfection.)-

"Excuse me." Sarah had leaned forward to touch Malfinien's shoulder. "Umm... I need to use the restroom."

"Ah." Malfinien nodded sagely. "We'll stop at the next rest area."

-------------------------------

A/N: The brackets are, for whatever reason, on the list of characters that QuickEdit doesn't seem to be able to support, along with the underscore... hence the peculiar use of the -( and )-. Just means Elvish, like before.


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